SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 



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SOCIAL ASPECTS 



OF 



EDUCATION 



A BOOK OF 
SOURCES AND ORIGINAL DISCUSSIONS 

WITH 

ANNOTATED BIBLIOGRAPHIES 



BY 
IRVING KING, Ph.D. 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF EDUCATION 
STATE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1912 

All rights reserved 



-^^ 



v^V 



Copyright, 1912, 
By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1912. 



Nortnaob Unties 

J. S. Gushing Co. — Berwick <fc Smith Co. 

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gCl.A30n427 



PREFACE 

Probably no student of education questions the desirability of de- 
voting some attention to the social phases of that subject in a well- 
rounded teachers' training course. In fact, such would seem to be 
the logical outcome of the recognition of educational activities as as- 
pects of social activity and as bearing some important relation to 
social progress. Moreover, the processes of learning in the individual 
are conditioned to a large extent by the social environment both within 
and without the school, and this would seem to warrant approaching 
educational psychology, in part at least, from the point of view of 
social psychology. Furthermore, there is a growing recognition that 
the end of education, state it how we may, must for one thing take 
account of the fact that the child is, and probably will continue to be, 
a member of society, and that his efficiency as an individual will al- 
most inevitably be measured by social standards of some sort. Mani- 
festly the teacher should have a sympathetic and thoroughly practi- 
cal insight into these social factors, conditions and relationships, if he 
is to be a master of his craft. 

But, while all these things may be admitted to be true, there are 
doubtless many that feel an uncertainty as to how to instruct the 
would-be teacher profitably along these lines. The facts and rela- 
tionships of social education have not yet been brought together in 
any comprehensive way. There is much excellent material scattered 
through many magazines and journals, but it needs to be organized 
and evaluated. Several very suggestive books have recently appeared 
dealing with limited portions of the field, but there is as yet no gen- 
erally recognized statement of the problems and the content of a 
course in social education which is really scientific, that is, which is 
more than a mass of mere empirical details. If any body of fact is to 
have serious consideration in the scholastic field, it must have fairly 
definite and well-recognized principles of organization. Thus, while 



vi PREFACE 

the social implications of education are evident enough, most of the 
work offered teachers in their professional courses has been relatively 
individualistic. In educational psychology, for instance, the develop- 
ment of the mental process is described as if it took place largely within 
a social vacuum. The history of education is clearly an account of 
events that have been selected from the general history of social 
development, and yet in teaching the subject there is usually all too 
little emphasis laid upon the connection between the successive events 
in educational history and the social matrix from which these events 
inevitably sprang. In the same way the problems of superintendence 
and administration are at bottom essentially social problems, but 
they are not usually presented in the light of this their broader setting. 

With reference to this state of affairs, two things might be done 
with profit. First of all, in the presentation of these standard edu- 
cational subjects there should be a juster recognition of important 
social relationships. With classes in educational psychology it is 
possible to introduce the social element in quite an organic and satis- 
factory manner, and the students thereby get a better balanced notion 
of the conditions of mental development. The other professional 
courses could be socialized in like manner, not through the tacking on 
of any adventitious material, but through the introduction into them 
of facts which properly belong there and which have been ignored 
because of narrow traditional views of the subjects. 

Over and above all this, however, there should be a specific course 
or courses in the social aspects of education. The subject of the social 
relations and implications of education is so large and so vital that 
it requires separate treatment. Such a course should give a compre- 
hensive and stimulating, as well as practical, survey of educational 
activities from the point of view of their internal and external social 
relationships. 

In general, the object of the course here outlined is to secure to the 
student a broad and suggestive view of education in its more evident 
social relationships and more specifically with reference to its rela- 
tions to social progress. This latter point is considered the problem 
of the course, and it is stated thus : First, to what extent may edu- 
cational forces be regarded as definite avenues of social progress; and, 
secondly, to what extent may certain educational forces, the school 



PREFACE vii 

in particular, become more efficient as agencies of instruction as well 
as more effective promoters of social progress through a recognition 
of their broader social relationships and their internal character as 
social groups ? In other words, there are two sets of relations to take 
into account, those of the school to society at large, and those within 
the school itself as a social microcosm. The assumption is that a 
more intelligent appreciation of both these social aspects will ren- 
der educational forces more efficient for progress. . 

The course is divided into two parts. In the first we take up the 
broader social relations of the various educational forces. This af- 
fords a concrete beginning which is fairly comprehensible to all stu- 
dents. The second part of the course deals with the internal relations 
of the school as a social group, their bearing upon the life of the school 
in general and upon the learning activity in particular. In this sec- 
tion, also, is included a study of personality, in so far as it seems to be 
socially determined. 

The sequence of topics in this outline is not rigidly logical. It is 
merely a working scheme which experience has found adapted to the 
needs of the student who has done some little work in education and 
who yet must be appealed to by the concrete rather than the philo- 
sophical aspects of the subject. Nor is the selection of topics offered 
regarded as complete. In fact, they have been somewhat arbitrarily 
chosen. In my original scheme I proposed to include source ma- 
terials and discussions on such topics as vacation schools, night and 
continuation schools, the feeding of school children and medical in- 
spection. These lines of work are all current aspects of the larger 
view of the meaning and scope of education in its relation to social 
welfare. These and other topics will suggest themselves as worth 
taking up in connection with what is given here. It is, in fact, hoped 
that this volume will be regarded and used merely as an introduction 
and guide to the further study of a body of facts far too extensive 
to be adequately covered in any single volume. 

In the selection of materials to be reprinted, it was my aim to secure 
papers of two kinds: on the one hand, those which clearly discussed 
underlying principles; on the other, those which presented various 
concrete phases and applications. It is hoped that this will be found 
a desirable and usable combination. 



viii PREFACE 

The originals of most of the reprinted papers are easily accessible. 
It is thought, however, that by bringing them together in this way, 
with appropriate introductions and summaries, that they may acquire 
a meaning and a unity which they would not have if taken alone. 
A cumulative effect is here possible which would be lost altogether 
if the student were obliged to look them up separately in different 
places. It is hoped also that the fuller meanings thus brought to 
light will stimulate the student to a more extended acquaintance with 
the books from which these extracts are taken. 

I wish to thank the publishers and the various authors mentioned 
herein who have so generously permitted the reprinting of materials, 
much of which is copyrighted. Special mention should be made of 
Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons, The University of Chicago Press, The 
Charities Publication Committee, The School Review, The Century 
Company, The Macmillan Company, Ginn and Company, and The 
Public School PubHshing Company. I am also under especial obliga- 
tions to a number of individuals for assistance in the selection and 
preparation of my material, particularly to Mr. John A. Stevenson 
of the University of Wisconsin for enthusiastic and efl6cient help 
in many ways, and specifically in the annotation of parts of the 
bibliographies. 

Finally, I hope those who may use this book will be frank and free 
in offering any suggestions or criticisms which occur to them. I am 
far from regarding it as final in form or in content. 

IRVING KING. 
The State University of Iowa, 

Iowa City, November i, 1911. 



CONTENTS 

PAGES 

Preface v 

PART I 

EXTERNAL SOCIAL RELATIONS OF EDUCATION 

CHAPTER I 
Introduction: The Social View of Education . . . -1-5 

CHAPTER II 
The Social Origin of Educational Agencies 

{a) " The Education of the Pueblo Child." F. Spencer 



{¥) The Social Nature of Education as Seen in Primitive Life 
(f) Problems for Study and Discussion .... 

{d) References on Primitive Types of Education . 

CHAPTER III 



6-23 

6 

17 
22 

23 



The Social Responsibility of the School ; The Rural Situ- 
ation 24-53 

{a) Current Extensions in the Meaning and Scope of Education : 

Their Social Significance ....... 24 

{b) Introduction to the Rural Situation and the Rural School 

Problem 25 

{c) " The Hesperia Movement." Kenyon L. Butterfield . . 29 

{d) " The Rural School and the Community." Kenyon L. Butter- 
field 37 

(if) " Community Work in the Agricultural High School." B. H. 

Crocheron 43 

(/■) Problems for Study and Discussion . . . . -51 

{£) Selected Bibliography on Rural Education and Rural Life . 51 

CHAPTER IV 
The Social Relations of Home and School . . . 54-64 

{a) Home and School, Introduction 54 

{b) "Parents' Associations and the Public Schools." F.F.Andrews 58 

(c) Topics for Study and Discussion 61 

{d) Bibliography 62 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER ^ 

PAGES 

The School as a Center of Social Life in the Community 64-97 
(a) " The School as a Social Center." J.Dewey. ... 64 
(d) " Rochester Social Centers and Civic Clubs." E. J. Ward . 75 

(c) Comment on the School as a Social Center .... 91 

(d) Bibliography 96 



CHAPTER VI 
The Social Need for Continuing the Education of the Adult 98-108 
(a) "School Extension and Adult Education." H. M. Leipziger 98 
(d) Comment on Evening Lectures for Adults .... 106 

(c) Topics for Study 108 

(d) Bibliography 108 

CHAPTER Vn 

Playground Extension, an Aspect of the Larger Meaning of 

Education 109-128 

(a) "Why have Playgrounds at Public Expense?" E. B. Mero . 109 
((5) " Pittsburg Playgrounds." Beulah Kennard . , . • 115 
(t) Comment on the Social Significance of the Playground Move- 
ment 124 

(d) Selected Bibliography of Play and Playgrounds with Special 

Reference to their Social Values 126 

CHAPTER VIII 

The School Garden, its Educational and Social Value 129-143 

(a) " The Social Significance of School Gardens." Louise M. Greene 129 

(d) Comment on the Social Significance of School Gardens . . 140 

(c) Selected Bibliography on School Gardens .... 142 

CHAPTER IX 

Industrial and Vocational Education, its Social Signifi- 
cance 144-176 

(a) "The Fundamental Principles of Continuation Schools." 

Georg Kerschensteiner ....... 144 

(l>) "Past, Present, and Future of Industrial Education." A. D. 

Dean 156 



CONTENTS xi 

FAGKS 

(c) Summary on Industrial and Vocational Education . . .165 
(d?) Problems for Further Study and Discussion . . . .170 
(g) Bibliography 172 

CHAPTER X 

Vocational Direction, One of the Larger Social Functions of 

Education 177-205 

(a) Vocational Direction a Social Necessity 177 

(^) " Report of the Students' Aid Committee of the High School 

Teachers' Association of New York." E. W. Weaver . 189 

(c) Problems for Further Study 204 

(d) Bibliography 204 

CHAPTER XI 

Education as a Factor in Social Progress . . . 206-229 
(<?) " The School and Social Progress." J.Dewey . . . 206 
(^) Relation of Education to Social Progress .... 217 

(c) Bibliography 229 

CHAPTER XII 

Education as a Factor in Social Reform .... 230-235 
(a) Education and Social Reform 230 

(d) Bibliography 233 



PART II 

INTERNAL SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

CHAPTER XIII 

The General Nature of Social Life 236-247 

{a) General Nature of Social Life 236 

(Jj) " Primary Groups and Primary Ideals." C. H. Cooley . . 238 

(c) Topics for Study 246 

{d) Bibliography . 247 



xii CONTENTS 



CHAPTER XIV 

PAGES 

The Spontaneous Social Life of Children .... 248-263 
(a) Spontaneous Social Organizations among Children . . . 248 
(d) "Rudimentary Society among Boys." J.Johnson . . . 250 

(c) Topics for Study 261 

(d) Bibliography 262 

CHAPTER XV 1 

The Social Life of the School 264-290 

(a) The Social Life of the School and Social Education . . 264 

(d) " The Social Organization of the High School." F. W. Johnson 274 

(c) Topics for Study 287 

(d) Bibliography 288 

CHAPTER XVI 

The Social Life of the School as Expressed in its Govern- 
ment 291-309 

(a) " Democratic Government of Schools." J.T.Ray. . . 291 
(d) " Some Facts about Pupil Self-government." Richard Welling 298 

(c) Comment on Pupil Cooperation in School Government . . 304 

(d) Bibliography 307 

CHAPTER XVII 

The Personal Factor in the Social Life of the School . 310-324 

(a) Personal Influence and Leadership • 310 

(d) Topics for Study and Discussion ...... 322 

(t) Bibliography 323 

CHAPTER XVIII 

The Social Aspects of Mental Development . . . 325-356 
(a) The Social Aspects of Mental Development and of Personality. 

Introductory Statement 325 

(i5) " The Social Aspect of the Higher Forms of Docility." J. Royce 326 

(c) " The Social Basis of Personality." C. H. Cooley . . . 336 

(d) Summary and Comment upon the Social Aspects of Mental 

Development ......... 344 

(e) Bibliography 355 



CONTENTS xm 
CHAPTER XIX 

PAGES 

The Social Atmosphere of the School and the Learning 

Process 357-398 

(a) The Social Aspects of Learning : Introductory Statement . 357 
(d) "The Group as a Stimulus to Mental Activity." W. H. Burn- 
ham 358 

(c) " The Psychology of Social Consciousness Implied in Instruc- 

tion." G. H. Mead 363 

(^) "The Social Values of the Curriculum." J.Dewey. . . 369 
((?) "Social Significance of Self-organized Group Work." C. A. 

Scott 377 

(/) Comment on the Social Aspects of Class Instruction . . 393 

(g) Topics for Study 397 

(*%) References 398 

CHAPTER XX 

The Corporate Life of the School in Relation to Moral 

Training 399-421 

(a) " Social Aspects of Moral Training." R. Reeder . . . 399 

(d) Social Basis of Moral Education 408 

(t) Topics . ^ 420 

(d) References 421 

Index 423 



ABBREVIATIONS 

A. A. A Annals of the American Academy of Political and 

Social Science. 

Am. Ed American Education. 

Am. Jour. Soc. . . American Journal of Sociology. 

Am. S. B. Jour. . American School Board Journal, 

Bui. U. S. Bur. Ed. Bulletin of the United States Bureau of Education. 

Charities .... Charities and the Commons. 

Chaut Chautauquan. 

Ed Education. 

Ed. Rev Educational Review. 

El. S. T Elementary School Teacher. 

Ind Independent. 

Int. Jour. Eth. . . International Journal of Ethics. 

Man. Tr. Mag. . . Manual Training Magazine. 

N. C. C. C. . . . National Conference of Charities and Corrections. 

N. E. A Report of the National Educational Association. 

N. E. Mag. . . . New England Magazine. 

N. S. S. E. . . . National Society for the Study of Education. 

Ped. S Pedagogical Seminary. 

Pop. Sc. M. . . . Popular Science Monthly. 

S. Rev School Review. 

W. W World's Work. 



SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

PART I 
EXTERNAL SOCIAL RELATIONS OF EDUCATION 

CHAPTER I 

introduction: the social view of education 

It is the purpose of this Source Book to introduce the student to 
some of the more important social relations and social meanings of 
present-day education. The development of the modern sciences 
of sociology and social psychology have furnished the principles for a 
broader science of education than that which was possible when 
psychology was the only pure science upon which educational theory 
and practice could be built. We are not disposed to question in any 
degree the importance of psychology for education. Its status is 
thoroughly established. 

Psychology, however, furnishes only a part of the background from 
which the educational process must be viewed, and from which its 
governing principles must be worked out. It is true that education 
presupposes mental activity and mental growth in the learner, and it 
is important that the trained teacher should know something of the 
biological and psychological principles involved in these changes. But 
the teacher cannot afford to limit his view to the individual pupil or 
to a group of pupils regarded separately. No one can ever live to 
himself alone. In all sorts of subtle ways each one, in whatever he 
thinks or does, is influenced by other people. This is true of chil- 
dren in school as well as of adults. Moreover, all educational activi- 
ties are great social enterprises, and here also are important relation- 
ships to take into account in getting a comprehensive view of the 
process of education. 

But it is not only on the side of the principles involved that a social 
study of education is now desirable. The scope of educational activ- 



2 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

ity has been immensely broadened in recent years. This has been 
due not so much to any theoretical recognition of the wider meanings 
of education, as to the practical necessities which the growing com- 
plexities of modern life have thrust upon educational leaders. That 
these great extensions of educational activity may be studied and 
valuated, it is necessary for the student of education to be a sociologi- 
cal as well as a psychological expert. 

There are three senses in which education is a social process. First 
of all it is the instrument used by society for conserving its culture 
and providing efficient men and women for carrying forward and de- 
veloping still further the work which has to be done. In the second 
place the school itself is a little social group and the work of instruc- 
tion can be directed to the best advantage only by those who have a 
sympathetic understanding of its internal social relationships. In 
the third place, the process of learning is a social process and needs 
to be interpreted and controlled by established facts regarding 
the interaction of mind with mind. In at least three different direc- 
tions, then, a social viewpoint is needful for a full understanding of 
the nature and possibilities of present-day education. 

It is not suggested that these social phases of education are in any 
sense modern developments. It is only the recognition of them that 
belongs to our own day. In every age, from the most primitive to our 
own, these social relations have characterized society's work of edu- 
cating its children. They have come to hght to-day and have pressed 
upon us for practical recognition because of the high degree of speciaH- 
zation which has come to pass in education along with other phases 
of modern life. " There was a time when people were quite ready to 
define education. It would be rash to do so to-day. The term de- 
notes more than it has for any other age. Neither Plato, Quintilian, 
nor Locke nor Spencer, nor even Rousseau, faced, much less solved,- 
our present-day problems. Their simple, naive devices were meant 
for an earlier time and for a simpler civilization." ^ 

In modern communities, moreover, there are in progress manifold 
and fundamental readjustments. These have been going on and will 
continue to go on whether as individuals we wish them to or not. 
Society is larger than any individual, and even though each contributes 

1 Johnston, Educational Review, Feb. igog. 



INTRODUCTION: THE SOCIAL VIEW OF EDUCATION 3 

something to the direction of its changes, for practical purposes he 
is caught in a vast network of activities, the outcome of which he 
can only vaguely guess. Some of the changes in himian conditions 
wrought by the forces which the modern world has set going seem to 
be harmful rather than otherwise. Both from the side of the physi- 
cal, intellectual and moral natures, the individual has suffered and is 
suffering. We may have abounding faith that there will be adequate 
compensation of some sort. We may think we see some of the com- 
pensations in a general way, but their details are yet only imperfectly 
worked out. It is because of these conditions of rapid growth and 
readjustment that we are forced more and more to take into account 
the social bearings of education. It is manifest to all who have eyes 
to see that increasingly heavier burdens are being placed on educative 
agencies and institutions. 

In view of these new responsibilities there are many who see in the 
school a vital force for social progress. Thus John Dewey has said 
that " The school is a fundamental method of social progress and re- 
form." Ross,^ " School education in our day is a mighty engine of 
progress. The teacher has a wider outlook and a freer mind than the 
average parent." Scott says, *' the school at its best is a prophecy, 
as every embryo is a prophecy, of a better and nobler life." ^ 

One of the fundamental problems in the study of the social rela- 
tions of education is suggested in the above quotations. It is a two- 
fold problem and it may be abstractly stated thus : 

First, — To what extent may educational forces be regarded as 
definite avenues of social progress? 

Second, — To what extent may various educational forces, and the 
school in particular, become more effective promoters of social prog- 
ress as well as more efl&cient agencies of instruction through a recog- 
nition of — 

(a) Their broader social relationships, and 

(b) Their internal social character? 

Neither of these questions should be answered without serious re- 
flection. It is not a foregone conclusion that the schools are really 
agents of social progress. One who is inclined to take the view that 
they are agencies for positi^ve betterment should take into accoimt 
1 " Social Psychology," p. 231. 2 ", Social Education," p. 2. 



4 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

the fact that there are many conspicuous failures of the recognized 
educational forces to obtain satisfactory results. Professor WilHam 
James said (some years ago) in a pubUc address: "There is not a public 
abuse on the whole eastern coast which does not receive the enthusias- 
tic approval of some Harvard graduate. Fifty years ago the schools 
were supposed to free us from crimes and unhappiness, but we do not 
indulge in such sanguine hopes to any extent to-day. Though educa- 
tion frees us from the more brutal forms of crime, it is true that edu- 
cation itself has put even meaner forms of crime in our way. The 
intellect is the servant of our passions, and sometimes education only 
makes the person more adroit in carrying out these impulses." ^ 
Another great teacher, a professor of ethics, confessed that one of his 
honor students was later elected to a state legislature and became a 
" common grafter." These two instances are typical of many cur- 
rent indictments of modern education. It is within the limits of truth 
to say that many people feel that the school of to-day is very imper- 
fectly meeting its increased responsibilities. President Eliot says 
that the intelligence produced by our schools is ineffective and not 
worth the money spent. Other thoughtful students of the times have 
offered even severer indictments of current education. 

This is not to be taken to mean that our schools are less effi- 
cient absolutely than those of past generations, but rather that 
they are relatively less able to cope with the demands of their age. 
If it could be possible to transfer them to the social conditions of 
even a generation ago we have reason to think they would prove su- 
perior to the schools of that day in meeting the demands made upon 
them. But even so recently as the past generation, much of the work 
now being loaded upon the school was performed by other institutions. 
Moreover, in that day, with a less crowded population and cheaper 
living, the problem and the need of the schools' taking up various 
specialized types of education, such as industrial and vocational, did 
not present itself. The need of medical inspection and other efforts 
to protect the health of school children was not only not appreciated 
but also was largely nonexistent. Neither was there the need for 
playgrounds, school gardens, vocational direction and a host of other 
phases of current education. At least, these needs were met in other 
1 Quoted by C. A. Ellwood, School Review, 15 : 544. 



INTRODUCTION: THE SOCIAL VIEW OF EDUCATION 5 

ways. Although we are facing radically different conditions to-day, 
many people are slow to see that the traditional activities of the school 
are in any wise affected. However, as has been well pointed out, the 
" distribution of educative power among the social institutions is by 
no means a fixed division of burdens, set once and for all, by tradition 
or reason. The needs of society lay their heavy demands now upon 
one agent, now upon another, and in shifting currents of social progress 
some institutions, once powerful, are left weakened, if not helpless, 
while other institutions wax strong to meet the demands of the time. 
The homes of the urban industrial classes have not the moral influence 
over children exercised by the family life of the farmer; the church 
grips fewer members with its theological doctrines than it did a cen- 
tury ago; the trades do less for their apprentices in the modern fac- 
tory than they did when lodged in the household; the press has more 
influence; libraries are more plentiful; and the school has grown 
to be a modern giant where it was once a puny babe. The same old 
institutional forces beat upon the nervous systems of men, but the 
relative distribution of their work has changed and is changing. 

" In all these variations of influence, one striking tendency stands out 
clearly: as the agencies for incidental and informal education become 
incapable of training men for their complex environment, society, 
becoming increasingly self-conscious, gathers up the neglected func- 
tions and assigns them to the school. As church and family life ceases 
to keep pace with the moral demands of our intricate social life, the 
problem of moral education becomes conspicuous in the schools. As 
the work and play of the children under the conditions of city life be- 
come restricted so as to deprive them of robust physical activities 
in the fresh air and sunshine, the school is called upon to combat the 
danger with systematic physical training. As factory and shop em- 
plojonent becomes specialized and scientific, and the system of ap- 
prenticeship fails to make good workmen, the obhgation to train 
eflScient employees is thrust upon the schools." ^ 

» Snedden, The Problem of Vocational Education, from the Introduction. 



CHAPTER II 

THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 

The Education of the Pueblo Child 

We have seen how the quite general reluctance of primitive people 
to permit innovations, doubtless due in part to mental feebleness and 
inertia, but in a larger measure to superstitious beliefs, has become 
so intensified in the minds of the Pueblos that any deviation from the 
ways of their ancestors is regarded as a sacrilege deserving the dis- 
pleasure of both gods and men. It remains for us to examine the 
educational method which enables them to conserve the ancient wis- 
dom as exemplified in their religious lore, manners, customs, indus- 
tries and art, and to hand it down without material change from 
generation to generation. 

It will readily be seen that something more than mere spontaneous 
imitation is necessary to accomplish this result. For the purpose of 
this investigation it is convenient to consider their education under 
three aspects ; namely, industrial, moral and religious education. It 
must, however, be admitted that no definite lines of cleavage can be 
found between these divisions, since all acts are to the Pueblo re- 
ligious, even to the minutest details of his everyday life. It is only 
when the immediateness of aim is considered, such as preservation 
of life or bodily comfort, that distinctions can be drawn between 
religious and industrial pursuits. Thus the planting of corn, although 
to the Pueblo a religious function, has for its immediate aim the pro- 
curing of food for sustaining life. 

Imitation, taken in its broader sense, is the largest factor in both their 
industrial and religious training, but it is not to a very large extent, 
except in the earlier years of the child, a spontaneous or free imitation. 
Although it is true that spontaneous imitation enters very largely into 
the education of most uncivilized races, the most important factor in 
the education of the Pueblo is an imitation which is not spontaneous, 
but is brought about by external constraint. It is the key to Pueblo 
education, as the Pueblos are the key to the whole civilization of the 
southwest. It is with this non-spontaneous imitative phase of educa- 
tion, which investigators of primitive life, and educators as well, have 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 7 

generally overlooked, that this discussion is chiefly concerned. The 
aspect of modern education, with which this primitive education is 
most nearly comparable, is the apprentice system — a system which 
still largely persists in every industry of rural communities and the 
more mechanical pursuits in all communities. The form in which it is 
found among the Pueblos is quite characteristic of this stage of civiliza- 
tion, and as it is more primitive in its nature than the method generally 
comprehended under this term, it may not be incorrect to designate it 
as a pre-apprentice method. The discussion of this method and its 
efifects upon the life and character of the Pueblos is reserved to the 
close of this chapter, in order that it may be studied in the light of the 
actual facts of their education. 

Industrial Training. — In the earlier years of the Pueblo boy or girl 
a large measure of freedom is given, and owing to the lingering savage 
ideas and phlegmatic nature of the barbarian, many acts of seeming 
wantonness or cruelty of the children go entirely unrebuked by their 
elders. This is sometimes taken as an indication that their children 
are entirely imcontroUed, but such is not the case. Indeed, just the 
opposite is true. The Pueblos love their children and look after their 
training carefully. Like the plays of children everywhere, those of the 
Pueblo children are symbolical ; spontaneous imitation of the more 
serious work of their elders prevails and is truly educational, as it pre- 
pares the way for the later life into which they are to enter. But very 
early, even the plays, unconsciously to the children, are directed by 
their parents. Thus, the dolls with which the child plays are repre- 
sentations of their deities, so that the child early learns to recognize 
many of his gods. But, unlike the civilized child, the Indian does not 
grow out of the delusion of a personality in these masked dolls; it 
even grows stronger with age. 

The principal occupations of the Pueblos, such as agriculture, hunt- 
ing, pottery and implement making, weaving and building, are all 
imitated in the plays of the children ; at first very rudely, of course, 
but later with considerable fidelity, for imitation has become almost 
instinctive with the Pueblos. They are tacitly encouraged in these 
plays by their elders, who provide those things which the child nature 
calls for when beyond the stage in which the bent stick sufSces for a 
bow and the twig for the arrow, and when his plays become less purely 
symbolical. Thus, the Indian boy is provided with a bow and arrows 
and becomes a hunter, a battle-ax and becomes a warrior, or he is 
given a plat of ground where he constructs miniature acequias and tills 
the soil or herds his flocks. With a few stones and some adobe he con- 
structs miniature imitations of those buildings which have been the 
wonder of the ethnologist, or he may become a weaver, an arrow 
maker or a skin dresser. Very early, indeed, he will be expected to 



8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

take an active part in the simpler of these occupations, for the Pueblo 
children are taught to work as soon as they can be of the least assist- 
ance. Likewise, the little girl imitates in her plays those occupa- 
tions which fall to the woman's lot among the Pueblos; maternal du- 
ties, household cares, bearing of burdens, as well as the more skillful 
occupation of pottery making, basket and cloth weaving, bead and shell 
work, — all find a place in her spontaneous activities. Like her brother, 
also, she is very early required to begin her Ufe work. Little girls of 
five and six assist in caring for the younger children, carry water and 
wood and even help to prepare the clay for the pottery and the material 
for the basket weaving. As the children grow older they gradually 
take a larger share in all the occupations common to the Pueblos. 
Specialization does not figure prominently in this stage of develop- 
ment. The labor of one is generally the labor of all; yet there are 
individuals who, having reached a greater degree of skill, practically 
monopolize certain kinds of work, such as silver, shell or stone work- 
ing, or making a given kind of pottery or basket or the working of 
ornamental designs on ceremonial apparel. Thus certain individuals 
gain a reputation as experts, and the demand for their particular ware 
becomes so great that they are permitted to give up other occupations 
and devote their time exclusively to their specialties. The children 
of these specialists are quite likely to be taught the secrets of the trade 
or workmanship of their parents, and so some occupations remain in 
the hands of certain families. It is the embryological stage of speciali- 
zation. But whatever the occupation, or whatever the skill attained, 
the method of instruction is the same. The boys are apprentices of 
the men and the girls of the women of their immediate relatives, and 
they follow the pedagogical maxim of "Learn to do by doing " to its 
logical outcome. The theoretical or inventive field remains an unknown 
land. The learner has placed before him a model which he endeavors 
to reproduce exactly. No time or material is wasted in attempting to 
improve upon the model, rude though it be. The one desideratum 
is the acquirement of a certain amount of dexterity or skill in doing 
just the things his ancestors have done century after century before 
him. Indeed, in all their occupations requiring skill, such as build- 
ing, weaving, basket and pottery making, the forms have become so 
conventionalized by their beliefs that a religious sanction is placed 
upon them, which it would be a serious desecration to disregard. That 
the method is not without its advantages is attested by its almost 
universal prevalence among primitive people, and its survival in modi- 
fied forms in enlightened nations. It assures the conservation of the 
learning and occupations of the past, a standard to which all must 
rise, a^ stable condition of society, a freedom from innovations which 
may disturb the social or industrial order, and, barring external con- 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 9 

ditions, a national longevity and the transmission, unchanged, of all 
the lore of the ancients. 

Moral and Religious Training. — The moral education of the Pueblo 
differs materially from that which we have in our own civilization. In 
some respects he would not suffer by comparison. The implicit obedience 
of children, their marked respect for their elders, the kindness of parents 
to children, their natural helpfulness, generous hospitahty, forbearance 
and industry, are all marked characteristics of this people. 

In the wildest, roughest plays of the children, or in the most intensely 
exciting games of adults, no Pueblo will angrily strike another. It 
would be beneath his dignity. The child who would disdain the coun- 
sel of his parents or refuse to obey unquestioningly their commands 
would be looked upon with horror; yet no harsh means are used in 
attaining this result. For him a better way has been found. 

The Pueblo child does not receive commands to do or refrain from 
doing without the reason for the command being given. This reason 
is given in the form of a story in which the given action is portrayed 
with the good or evil resulting to the doer. These legends or folk 
tales are very numerous, so that one may be found to illustrate almost 
any case that may arise. 

The effectiveness of these tales depends upon the superstitious fear 
which is marked among even the children of the Pueblos. The circum- 
stances under which these tales are generally told lends' force or impres- 
siveness to the lessons they contain. The grandfathers of the village 
are the story-tellers, the primitive schoolmasters and historians of the 
tribe. The evening when the fires burn low and the close room is but 
dimly lighted is the favorite time for the repeating of these tales, and 
the solemn half chant in which they are told, together with the strik- 
ing gestures accompanying them, give them a weirdly dramatic effect. 

They exercise a profoimd influence on the conduct of the children, and 
the moral laws they prescribe are seldom transgressed. Another cus- 
tom of the Pueblos tending toward the same end is a dance ex- 
pressly to frighten the children into strict obedience. The custom is 
thus described as it is practiced at Zuni : " The Zuni have an annual 
dance expressly to frighten the children and keep them in good be- 
havior during the rest of the year. Characters even more horrible 
than those with the buffalo horns are the chief actors. They repre- 
sent fearful goblins who come to devour and carry away the children. 
They make the rounds of all the houses in the town, and at their ap- 
proach the parents conceal their little ones, pretending to frighten the 
demons off and desperately defend their offspring. 

" This makes a lasting impression on the children, and the mention of 
these creatures henceforth has a quieting effect. Formerly the Zuni 
had a dance which took place once in thirty years. The ceremonies 



lo SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

required the sacrifice of one child. For the victim the worst child in 
the village was selected. The mention of the festival was apt to produce 
good behavior in any child." 

The virtues which the Pueblo father or mother seeks to inculcate 
are obedience, industry, modesty, and especially the avoidance of evil 
sorcery of all kinds, which to them is the acme of depravity, and they 
secure it almost wholly through an appeal to superstitious fear. 

Religious Training. — The education of the Pueblos which most nearly 
corresponds to that given by the schools in civilized countries is their 
religious education. This reaches into the minutest details of their 
lives, which are one incessant round of formulary observances. The 
acquiring of their very elaborate ritual, which must be exactly trans- 
mitted and exactly used in order to be efficacious, is an educational 
task of no small proportions. Here again the instinctive imitativeness 
of the Indian proves very useful. The child is surrounded from his 
earliest years with rites and ceremonies which he soon begins to imi- 
tate, and to the end of his life, be it ever so long, he will continue a 
learner in this field. 

At the age of about four or five years the boys, and sometimes the 
girls, are initiated into a secret society which practically includes the 
whole village. These initiations differ in detail among the various 
pueblos, but are essentially similar. It is through these initiations that 
the child becomes a rightful member of the pueblo, shares in the com- 
munal rights and privileges and is placed under the protection of the 
tribal gods. To the primitive mind these initiatory ceremonies are so 
necessary, so sacred and impressive, that all their features are indelibly 
stamped in memory. Taken in connection with the elaborate rites 
and ceremonies which must later be learned, they form the larger part 
of their purposeful education. The initiation into the Ka-ka, as it is 
practiced at Zuni, is described by Mrs. M. E. Stevenson in her article 
on the religious life of the Zuni child.'^ The substance of her descrip- 
tion is as follows : After eight days of preparation, during which prayers 
are said, sacrifices made, wood brought from the mesas, paints and 
ceremonial vestments prepared, nightly rehearsals made and many dances 
and ceremonials of the elders performed, the actual initiation of the 
child begins. The ceremony is begun about the time of the setting of 
the sun, by the priest of the sun sprinkUng a fine of sacred prayer 
meal about the village, marking (with the meal) the position of the 
priests, who take their places as indicated. The godfathers then pass 
along the line of meal, each one holding his godchild on his back by a 
blanket which he draws tightly around him, and as he passes the line 
of priests each one strikes the child a severe blow with a bimch of Span- 
ish bayonets. The Indian, from infancy, looks upon the exhibition 
^ Bureau of Ethnology Report, Vol. V. 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES ii 

of feeling when undergoing physical pain as a sign of weakness, yet so 
severe are these blows that they force tears from the eyes of the chil- 
dren, but no cry is heard. After this test the godfathers take the 
children to the Kliva of the North, where plumes are selected and 
placed in the scalp locks of the boys. A medicine priest then gives each 
godfather and his ward a drink of the holy water which is kept in the 
sacred vessels. While they drink, prayer is said by the godparents and 
repeated by the boys. They then return to the plaza, where the chil- 
dren undergo a second trial. Each child kneels and clasps the bent 
knee of his guardian, who draws him still closer with his blanket around 
him. Four priests appear, and first having tested the thickness of 
the child's clothing, each strikes him across the back with the yucca 
blade. This concludes the first part of the ceremony. 

The second part takes place during the night in the Kivas, the 
boy sitting on a ledge between the knees of his sponsor. When all 
have taken their places, the priest of the North arises and taking a 
wand walks over to the first boy, and holding the wand toward the 
mouth of the boy, he breathes upon it four times, the child drawing 
from it each time the sacred breath passing from the mouth of the priest 
over the sacred plume. This ceremony is performed for each boy and 
by each of the priests of the West, South, East, Zenith and Nadir in 
turn. The Kolowitsi, the plumed serpent, now appears at the entrance 
above. The high priest, the war priest and the priestess of the earth 
advance to meet the serpent, each carrying a large earthen bowl to 
catch the sacred water poured from its mouth. Each guardian fills 
a small bowl with the water, and drinking a portion of it gives the re- 
mainder to the boy to drink. After the water is exhausted, a blanket 
is held to catch the seeds of all the cereals poured from the mouth of 
the serpent. These are taken by the priest and distributed to all pres- 
ent. This done, the boys return to their homes. 

Early the next morning each boy is taken by his godfather and led 
to a point eastward some distance from the vUlage, each sprinkling a 
line of sacred meal. A prayer is said which is repeated by the boy, 
after which the godfather, making a hole in the ground, plants a prayer 
plume. From this time the boy eats no animal food for four days, 
and the plume which was placed in the boy's hair during the ceremony 
is not removed until the fourth morning after the planting of the plumes, 
when he again goes over the road with his guardian, who deposits the 
plume from the boy's head with a prayer, which is repeated by the child. 

After this first initiation he is allowed several years to decide when 
he will take the vows made for him at this time by his godfather. But 
the most important initiation to the youth of the pueblo is that which 
takes place at the period of adolescence, when they are accepted as 
complete or " finished " members of the village community. 



12 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

This ceremony, so general among primitive races, coming as it does 
at that period of hfe when ideas and ideals change, when sacrifices and 
ordeals are welcomed, and when profound impressions may readily 
be produced, marks an epoch in savage and barbarous life, the impor- 
tance of which it is difficult to overestimate. The almost entire 
lack of any counterpart of this ceremony in modern public education 
leaves unused a field which is not unworthy of attention. It is at this 
period that the boy enters a higher and more exclusive order of the 
priesthood, and every male of good standing in the community is usually 
a member of one or more of these secret societies. 

The ceremony at Walpi, a Hopi village, and one of the most primi- 
tive, is as follows : The initiation takes place when there are enough 
candidates, or about once in four years, during the November moon. 
In former times, when the number of inhabitants was greater, it took 
place annually. The actual initiation requires nine days, and is pre- 
ceded by several days of preparation, which includes making of para- 
phernalia, bringing wood, preparing the altars in the ICivas, songs, 
prayers and rehearsals. 

Just at sundown of the first day the novices are brought to the 
Kiva, naked, save for the scant white kilt fastened around the loins, 
and with the hair hanging loosely about the shoulders. Before stepping 
on the hatchway leading down into the Kiva, the blankets and moc- 
casins must be removed, as it would be a sacrilege to enter its sacred 
precincts with these garments on. The boys are carried into the Kiva, 
each holding a handful of sacred meal which he throws on the fire, 
which has been kindled for the ceremony by the ancient fire drill, and 
so is the sacred fire of the gods. The novices are huddled together on 
an upraised partition of the chamber, while their bodies are rubbed with 
a yellow pigment. A black stripe is made around the legs below the 
knees, and two vertical black lines are painted on each cheek. From 
this time the novices, or Keles as they are called, are not allowed to eat 
or drink for four days. Just at midnight a sacred dance is performed, 
and at sunrise on the following morning the boys are escorted, each 
carrying a deer's horn, to the plaza to witness a curious sidewise, 
shuffling dance, accompanied by stentorian singing. The Keles, still 
naked, although the November air is quite crisp in this highland re- 
gion, must give respectful attention to the whole ceremony. At the 
close of the dance, they are taken back to the Kiva. Frequent alarums, 
patrols and excursions are kept up throughout this day to the surround- 
ing Mesas. 

From this time the Keles are not allowed to see the sun until the end 
of the ceremony. Just after noon, the boys, blindfolded, and forming 
a chain, by each one clinging to the blanket of the preceding one, 
are conducted by the priests to a distant portion of the village, where 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 13 

prayers are said. Returning, they are instructed in the songs and 
dances, this training continuing at intervals throughout the initiatory 
ceremony. On the third morning at simrise they are taken again to 
witness the shufliing dance in the plaza. This time each novice carries 
an ear of corn as the symbol of fertility, and during the performance 
of this ceremony they are seated and kept perfectly quiet. Late in the 
afternoon of this day they are dressed like women, in the oldest, most 
ragged clothing which can be found ; each carrying a burden of some 
kind, as a bundle of fuel, a loaded basket or a cradle, and, in this garb, 
dance the side-step around the whole village. 

Each day the ceremony becomes more secret and mysterious. In 
the evening of this day messengers are sent along all the trails leading 
to the village to warn all strangers against approaching the village, 
by sprinkling a line of prayer meal across each trail. The songs, dances 
and prayers are continued throughout the night, and on the fourth 
morning sentinels are posted along all the trails at a distance from the 
village. At sunrise the same shuffling dance is performed, but instead 
of returning to the Kiva they pass in single file far out upon the plain 
to a mountain fifteen miles to the southward. This time they are ar- 
rayed in the finest raiment and make the most lavish display of jewelry 
and other finery which the village affords. They do not return from 
this journey until after dark. While at the mountain they dig mobi 
to use in a purifying process, and a white clay to be used in decorating 
their bodies. Before entering the Kiva on their return, they dance four 
times around the village, although it must be remembered the boys 
have eaten nothing for four days. On this night every house in 
the village is kept dark. Patrols pace the streets, making a terrific 
noise, with bells, shells, cans and drums. Two of the priest societies 
walk the streets in companies, and, as the night wanes, they gradually 
increase their pace until, at the time when the Pleiades reach the zenith, 
they are rushing aroimd the village at a furious run. This is kept up 
until Orion is in the same position as on the preceding night when the 
priests finished their song. About an hour before sunrise the priests 
of these two societies march to the roof of one of the Kivas; there, 
standing closely wrapped in their blankets, they sing fine and solemn 
hymns. An hour after sunrise a fine feast is spread, at which the Keles 
are first permitted to break their long fast. The exertions which they 
have undergone constitute, throughout, a terrible ordeal. Through 
the sixth, seventh and eighth days the priests continue regularly 
to instruct the Keles, while the different societies dance in the Kiva 
and plaza, at intervals through the day. During the last days the 
Keles bear the impression of the sun painted on their backs. The 
whole ceremony is concluded by processions, dances, songs and long 
prayers to the gods to aid the boys in walking in " the straight path " 



14 



SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 



of Hopi morality. The Hopi Indians have an initiatory ceremony 
for the maidens, which in some respects resembles the one just 
described. 

Ordeals and the learning of intricate rites and ceremonies, together 
with the body of lore which is the property of a given society, character- 
ize all initiations. 

The initiations are for the purpose of finishing the boy, as the Pueblos 
express it, but, like our commencements, they are generally the beginning 
of a life of hardship, of penance and self-mortification, and as the priests 
are the conservers of the lore of this people, in order that it be free 
from error and variation, great care must be exercised in transmitting 
it from the priests to the novices. 

The songs, prayers, dances and other rites must be exact, even to the 
slightest details, in order to be efi&cacious, and it follows that, in order 
to learn them in this precise way, years of practice are necessary. The 
Kivas thus become their schoolhouses as well as their temples. To 
the Pueblo none of these rites or ceremonies are meaningless. Each one 
has its origin in the teaching of some god or culture hero, or are the 
dramatization of some important event related in their traditions. 

The Pueblos generally believe in these traditions as they believe in 
their own existence, and careful students quite generally concede 
that most, if not all, of these tales have some foundation in fact, which 
the Indian has clothed in the fanciful garb which his superstition has 
placed around them, and the uncertainty of the distant past has so in- 
tensified the glamour that it is almost impossible to separate fact from 
fiction. The Indian explains all phenomena in his own way; the 
problems of life and death, together with the phenomena of nature, 
have not escaped him, and he has an explanation for each which 
completely satisfies him. 

The Pueblos had at the time of their discovery reached that stage in 
which most of the great body of lore had passed slowly but surely into 
the hands of the priesthood, and the religious instruction of the youth 
had been given almost entirely over to his care. 

It is important to note here that the method of instruction is the 
same in the industrial, moral and religious spheres — a method which 
aims at an exact reproduction of the skill or wisdom in the possession 
of the tribe by generation after generation. The ideal attainment does 
not go beyond the wisdom of their fathers. The method has been dwelt 
on at some length in the industrial sphere, and what was stated of it 
there holds true in the learning of religious lore, rites or ceremonies. 
The model is brought before the pupil, and he is expected by repeated 
trials to reproduce it exactly. Thus, if a song or tale is to be learned, 
there are no explanations. The song is sung or the tale recited by the 
master priest, and the pupil learns it by repeating it again and again. 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 15 

learning not alone the words or melody, but the exact intonation, 
gestures and bearing of the master. 

Of the two great forces which have lifted humanity to the present 
plane of civilization — imitation and invention — the latter has been 
almost wholly suppressed by the Pueblos. By imitation, as used here, 
is meant the conscious or unconscious repetition by one individual of 
the acts of another, while invention includes any intentional varia- 
tion from the old typical form. 

The method of obtaining this result has been designated the ap- 
prentice method, since it very nearly approaches that method as it is 
practiced in the civilized world. It has its basis in imitation and habit, 
and has its value in the possibility of attaining given results with the 
least expenditure of energy, time or waste of material. The notion 
of the apprentice method, as here used, embraces the conception of a 
master in possession of the skill, information or end to be attained, 
an unskilled or uninformed pupil or novice, and the transmission of the 
skill or knowledge, unchanged, from the master to the pupil. But in 
order that the method be efficacious, some force must act to impel the 
pupil or apprentice persistently to strive toward the end to be attained. 
Without this force the method would lose its value, for, as a rule, natural 
interest languishes long before the necessary perfection is reached. The 
apprentice, left to himself, is usually satisfied with a very inferior grade 
of work, and falls far short of his ideal. 

It is in this reenforcement that the system, as applied among the 
Pueblos, differs most widely from that found in more highly civilized 
communities. In the latter state the necessary persistency of effort 
is brought about by the master or parent, who, when natural interest 
flags and the task has become irksome, brings to bear the power of 
authority in moral suasion or physical force. 

This condition quite generally obtains in rural communities where all 
the homely occupations are learned by this method. The boy imitates 
the work of his father, and the girl in the same way learns the household 
duties by imitating the model placed before her by her mother. The end 
to be attained in both cases is the same, the exact reproduction of the 
knowledge or skill of the parents. Variation has no place in this scheme 
of education, for the children are not supposed to make any advance be- 
yond the attainments of their parents. This method, however, is not 
confined to the rural communities, but is used everywhere in all those 
trades or arts which are learned by what is called "the rule of thumb." 

The advantages of the system are obvious. As there is no experi- 
mentation, no time, energy or materials are wasted. It is based 
upon imitation, which generates habit, and habit once fixed, all subse- 
quent actions become easier and more skillful, and, hence, the amount 
of work the individual is able to accomplish is greatly increased. But 



1 6 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

praise of the system is but an extolling of the advantages of habit in 
industry — a factor without which progress is impossible, yet without 
invention it may and does produce stagnation. 

Educators are beginning to recognize that stress placed upon any 
stage of mental development may result in arresting the mind at 
that stage. This is true of all periods, and for the most part is based 
upon the fixing power of habit. Brain paths or mental paths once 
formed are difficult to obliterate or change, and education must ever 
guard against overhabituation in narrow lines, if the highest progress 
of the individual is to be promoted. This is the great defect of the 
apprentice system. Valuable as it is for the mere artisan, something 
more is needed for those who would become creators or originators. 

The apprentice method for this reason must ever be opposed to con- 
tinued progress, and the nation or people having recourse to it alone 
will sooner or later be brought to a standstill, even when there are no 
other forces acting to bring this about. 

This is the condition which is found to exist among the Pueblos. The 
method of instruction is not unlike that just described ; but the agency 
which acts to reenforce a naturally conservative method of education 
is their religion, which has become a most powerful force, impelling the 
Pueblo to attain the wisdom and skill of his fathers and restraining him 
from any deviation from it. 

Ancestor worship or ancientism, which is such a large factor in their 
religion, has turned their faces to the past and led them to attach a 
special sanctity to whatever is old. Thus, all their art having become 
conventionalized and all their occupations having been taught to them 
by their gods or demigod culture heroes, any deviation from the an- 
cient way becomes sacrilegious. 

The Pueblo father trains his son to follow in his footsteps in all his 
occupations and superstitions ; fear restrains him from departing from 
them. What is true of industry and art is more profoundly true in 
the transmission of religious forms and beliefs, for here a special sanc- 
tity lends force to the prevailing method. It is only natural that super- 
stitious fear should appeal more strongly here, for the attention of both 
novice and priest is fixed immediately upon the object of their fear. 
In all cases it has been sufficiently strong to arrest development. It 
has led them constantly to attain a given stage of culture, and then has 
held them at this level. Without the method religion could not perpet- 
uate its sanctioned forms, and the method without the powerful rein- 
forcement of religious fear would not be so efficient a conservator of 
past achievements. By acting together there can be seemingly but 
one result — arrested development. 

From The Education of the Pueblo Child. Frank Spencer. Courtesy of The Macmiilan 
Company. 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 17 

The Social Nature of Education as seen in Primitive Life 

The efforts of present-day savage and barbarous peoples to instruct 
their children throw interesting light upon the social nature and social 
relations of educational agencies. In these early and relatively simple 
stages of social development, the school does not exist as a separate 
institution. The entire social group is more or less actively interested 
in the training of the children. After the school has been set off, or 
institutionalized, this social connection is not always so clear. It is 
probably true, however, and a study of primitive education helps 
us to see it, that in complex as well as in simple societies all types of 
educational activity are responses to some more or less genuine social 
needs. In primitive society, especially, it would be impossible for 
a tribe to survive long if the education afforded its children were widely 
divergent from the needs of the Hfe process. In some way they must 
learn to use the implements of the hunt and of warfare. They must 
learn those lessons of tribal custom and religion which will insure the 
stability and solidarity of the group. If the simple arts of a barbaric 
society were not in some way preserved in each new generation, that 
society would soon drop back to the level of brute life. Some form of 
education, then, however crude and haphazard, either conscious 
or unconscious, is necessary even for unprogressive peoples, that at 
least the existing level of culture may be retained. 

The beginnings of human education were, in fact, probably quite 
unconscious. The social groups and the races which survived in the 
hard struggle for Hfe were the ones which little by little had acquired 
the ability to preserve the results of their experiences and pass them 
on to succeeding generations. This ability may have been fostered 
and developed by natural selection. The societies that did not in some 
way preserve from generation to generation the little culture they 
possessed, simply did not survive. The first education was in all 
likelihood little more than an extension of the imitation which possibly 
exists to some extent among the lower animals. It is a disputed point 
as to whether animals imitate or not. It seems not unlikely, how- 
ever, that the deliverances of instinct are sometimes and to some 
extent supplemented by a little imitation on the part of the young. 
The human being was, at the first, just slightly more imitative than 



i8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

the animals. It was, then, first of all in the course of purely informal 
imitative contact with the rest of the group that the child became 
versed in the attainments of his elders. 

Familiar social intercourse within the family and neighborhood was 
not only the first channel of education; it has continued in all ages 
and in all stages of culture to be one of its most important means. 
The more formal means have been but differentiations out of this broad 
matrix of social intercourse. This latter gives the setting, the back- 
ground, and determines the relationships of the formal agencies. It 
fills in the interstices and makes up the deficiencies of these latter. 

As long as culture is quite simple, and as long as every community 
in its life and industries illustrates practically all the elements of this 
culture, education through imitation and famihar social intercourse 
is fairly adequate. That is, the great bulk of what the community 
knows can be acquired by just living in it day by day. However, 
there are nearly always some few things to be done which require a 
certain amount of skill that cannot be acquired unless there is a httle 
conscious direction of the learner — such as the use of the bow and 
arrow and other primitive weapons or the simple arts of pottery and 
weaving. Then, there are certain customs and religious beliefs that 
cannot be left entirely to informal social intercourse. Formal edu- 
cational activities grow up about these special skills and customs and 
beliefs which seem too important to be left to chance. Formal edu- 
cation neither in the beginning, nor ever, for that matter, has been 
concerned with the transmission of all of social culture, but only with 
certain fragments, more or less arbitrarily selected. It has always been 
necessary, as suggested above, to depend upon informal agencies to 
fill in the gaps and even to give meaning to the work of the formal 
agencies. 

A study of the relations of old and young in modern savage and 
barbarous societies throws some light upon the beginnings of formal 
education. Among some of the southeast Australians the old men 
and women were said to gather the youths about them at the evening 
camp fires and instruct them in the traditions and usages of the tribe. 
Such a practice is only one step removed from purely informal social 
intercourse. The time taken for instruction is that in which the 
community naturally gathers about the fire in the evening and talks. 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 19 

The next step in the differentiation of the school is taken when 
some stated time is set apart, often of several months' duration, for 
initiation ceremonies. These constitute what is probably the most 
primitive type of formal schooling. At this time the physical strength 
and self-control of the youth are tested in various ways. He is taught, 
among the Australians, by the older men of the tribe in all the mythol- 
ogy and sacred customs and ceremonies of his people. By testing 
his endurance in many trying ways, they determine whether he has 
sufficient physical hardihood and mental self-control to be admitted 
into the society of adults, and carry his share of the responsibihties of 
tribal life. In the most primitive societies there is no special class 
set off as teachers. The whole social group takes a hand in the instruc- 
tion, or, possibly, the group as represented in the old men. Respect 
for the old men is illustrated by the following words of Spencer and 
Gillen with reference to the central Australians. " It may be noted 
here that the deference paid to the old men during the ceremonies of 
examining the churinga is most marked; no young man thinks of 
speaking unless he be first addressed by one of the older men, and 
then he listens solemnly to all that the latter tells him. . . . The 
old man just referred to was especially looked up to as an oknirabata, 
or great instructor, a term which is only applied, as in this case, to 
men who are not only old, but learned in all the customs and tra- 
ditions of the tribe, and whose influence is well seen at the ceremonies 
. . . where the greatest deference is paid them. A man may be old, 
very old indeed, but yet never attain to the rank of oknirabata." 

Thomas says: " The educational system of the savage was designed 
to secure the solidarity of the group, not to convey a body of exact 
knowledge. The formal instruction was mainly moral; the occupa- 
tional practice was picked up unformally. The food regulations of 
the Australians are a striking example of the thoroughness with which 
the moral instructions were imparted." ^ 

The first point of importance is, then, that educational processes 
are, from the first, social processes, phases of social activity to secure 
the solidarity of the group and to maintain its status quo. They re- 
flect more or less genuine and insistent social needs. In a primitive 
society it would be inconceivable that educational practices should 

* Source Book of Social Origins, p. 316 f. 



20 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

have to do with that which is merely accessory, with the superfluities 
of culture, as it were. Of course, the initiation ceremonies and the 
elaborate customs and mythologies may seem to us as the very height 
of the impractical and unnecessary. Judged, however, with reference 
to the results within the groups, we see that they do have a very great 
social significance. From the point of view of moral character alone 
it is doubtful whether the educational activities of the higher races 
are as efficacious as those of savages. The content of their instruc- 
tion is quite different from ours, and yet excellence of moral character 
and social efficiency do not seem to depend altogether upon the con- 
tent taught, — rather upon certain other conditions, — among which 
must be included the intimate relation of the whole process of edu- 
cation to the social group itself. 

The second point is that when social culture becomes complex, 
famihar social intercourse is no longer adequate, and certain phases 
are selected out for special attention. At this point, formal agencies 
of instruction begin to differentiate. These are to be regarded as 
phases of the division of labor which are increasingly necessary as 
society passes from the primitive levels. The school as an institution 
and teaching as a profession are products of the inevitable differentia- 
tions of progressive societies. As has been said above, every edu- 
cational activity is a response to some need felt more or less definitely 
by the social body within which the undertaking occurs. This is 
true even where it is maintained by private enterprise. There is al- 
ways an organic relation to a social background of some sort. This 
is true at least in the initial phases of an educational enterprise. It is 
to be noted, however, that as soon as a school becomes organized with 
reference to meeting a certain need, it almost inevitably acquires 
an inertia or an irresponsiveness to the further demands of this social 
background. It loses its direct touch with the social matrix and 
develops a momentum of its own, irrespective of other social neces- 
sities which, in the meantime, may have come to the front. That is 
to say, an institution, as well as a person, may acquire habits and 
become relatively irresponsive to new situations and needs. In 
proportion as a school, whether supported by public or private funds, 
becomes definitely organized and continues its work for a consider- 
able period of time, its activities and ideals tend to become more or 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 21 

less fixed. In a progressive, or at least in a rapidly changing, society 
it is thus easy for established educational agencies to lose touch with 
the social matrix from which they spring. One of the most perplexing 
and difficult problems of the modern school, looking at it from the 
social side, is how to keep it wisely responsive to changes and develop- 
ments in social needs. As we have seen, this problem is nonexistent 
for older types of society. It is distinctly a modern difficulty. Only 
in comparatively recent times has social change been very rapid. 
Thus we have on our hands to-day the educational institutions devel- 
oped with reference to the demands of a much simpler and more static 
social order. Our present-day public elementary schools are pre- 
dominantly expressions of the needs felt by a colonial and pioneer 
society, the need of instruction in the rudiments of polite culture — • 
reading, writing and arithmetic. Other phases of pioneer culture were 
readily transmitted by informal means within and without the home. 
In fact, the whole social fabric and its culture was so simple that it 
was comparatively easy for a bright, energetic boy to get all of the best 
in it with a minimum of formal schooling. This tended to foster the 
notion, and it has widely prevailed, that schooling, after all, was not 
necessary to a useful life. If that were ever possible, it was only in 
the simple society of pioneer times. It would be all but impossible 
for a child to obtain any practical working acquaintance with the 
knowledge of the present generation without the assistance of some 
form of training. 

The question that now confronts us is that of how to secure to a 
rapidly changing and possibly progressive social organization the 
maximum of good from its educational agencies ; how to make them 
true instruments of progress. Manifestly, it is important that the 
educational agencies of modern peoples should be closely associated 
with social requirements more important, indeed, than in the case of 
primitive peoples. In pointing out this need for a responsiveness, 
or sympathetic relation between the school and its environment, we 
are mindful that this may easily go too far. Social changes are often 
fitful and evanescent, and certainly not always in the line of real prog- 
ress. There could be no greater mistake on the part of the school 
than to yield to every demand from the social environment for a 
modification of its practice. The school should not be a blind slave 



22 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

of society, yielding, hither and thither, in this way and that, to every 
push from without, neither can it be autocratic and altogether self- 
determining. It is a tool for performing a certain specialized function. 
It is an institution, the expression to some extent of intelligent pur- 
pose, and in the performance of its function it should be controlled 
in a measure from within by a wise appreciation of its relation to so- 
ciety. Beginning in an almost unconscious response to needs little 
removed from the animal level, educational agencies have developed 
into mighty social institutions. The time has come when these 
activities should cease to be unreflective, when they should be directed 
more and more in the light of a farsighted and enlightened view of 
real social needs as over against what may be mere passing whims and 
fancies. Those engaged in educational work are constituent parts of 
society, and it is as much, if not more, incumbent upon them to study 
social currents or tendencies and to try to evaluate them according to 
adequate standards as it is for any other members of society. The 
administrators and conductors of the teaching function will in some 
respects rise slightly above the average level of the rest of society. 
They should be trained to understand social movements and needs, 
and should be able to adjust their work so as to help that which is 
best in the social body to be adequately realized. The school should 
be adapted to the specific needs of the community which support it, 
and yet it should be a httle ahead of it, the conscious exponent of the 
ideals which are more or less vaguely strugghng for expression, thus 
helping the community to become conscious of and to realize its best, 
its most worthy, aspirations. 

We can best make clear the principle we have been outlining by 
studying the rural school problem. In the following sections the 
problem will be that of defining more specifically the needs of present- 
day American communities which the educational agencies should 
try in some measure to meet and what is actually being done in some 
places to realize these broader educational functions. 

PROBLEMS FOR STUDY AND DISCUSSION 

I. Find illustrations in the present-day curriculum of the irre- 
sponsiveness of the school to social needs: e.g. (a) the insistence 
upon formal studies or the ancient classics to the exclusion of those 



THE SOCIAL ORIGIN OF EDUCATIVE AGENCIES 23 

preparing for a vocation ; (b) the various antiquated aspects of recog- 
nized subjects in the curriculum, as in geography, arithmetic, grammar, 

2. Evidence of a failure to recognize the importance of personal 
initiative in learning. 

3. Tendency toward formation of new schools. Why should new 
social needs be so often met first by private enterprise ? 

4. Is the formation of new schools to meet new needs paralleled 
in religion or poHtics in the new religious sects and new political 
parties ? 

5. Why do not new needs find more ready satisfaction through old 
institutions ? 

6. Show that Spartan and Athenian education was definitely 
worked out with reference to certain social ideals. So of other 
ancient peoples. 

REFERENCES ON PRIMITIVE TYPES OF EDUCATION 

HowiTT, Alfred. Native Tribes of Southeast Australia, p. 529 £f. 
et al. 

Spencer, Baldwin and Gillen. Native Tribes of Central Australia, 
pp. 212-230, 271-286, et al. 

Stevenson, M. C. "The Religious Life of the Zuni Child," Fifth 
Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, p. 9 ff. 

Spencer, Frank. Education of the Pueblo Child. Columbia Con- 
tributions to Education. 

Thomas, W. I. Source Book of Social Origins. Quotes most of 
the important material from Howitt, Spencer and Gillen, and 
others. 



CHAPTER III 

THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL, THE RURAL SITUATION 

Introductory Statement 

Current Extensions in the Meaning and Scope of Education: Their 
Social Significance 

As we have said, the school has a double social meaning. It is 
an instrument used by society for the education of the community; 
it is, moreover, in itself a little society. Quite different types of prob- 
lems cluster about these two aspects. The latter aspect will be treated 
in a later section of this Source Book. The former we shall take up 
now. 

The traditional work of the school in the intellectual training of 
children is of course very important from the point of view of society. 
This service of the school has been the subject matter of much educa- 
tional Literature in the past, and we need not here discuss it further. 
We are here concerned rather to note the current broadening concep- 
tions of the meaning and scope of education and its relation to social 
progress and social reform. " Gradually there [has grown] into 
shape the idea that the school should minister to other needs of the 
community besides the purely [i.e. traditionally] educational." 

In the following sections we shall study various extensions of the 
work of the schools, extensions which carry them far beyond their 
legitimate scope as recognized by tradition. One of the problems to 
consider will be whether these extensions of school activity are so- 
cially justifiable, and whether, if they are, they may be considered as 
falling within the proper scope of the community's educational en- 
terprises. 

We shall start with the conception of education as a response to 
more or less specific social needs. From this point of view we shall 

24 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 25 

study the current active interest in the reconstruction of rural edu- 
cation. This will open to us the general problem of bringing the home 
and school closer together, first of all through different types of Home 
and School Associations. The next point naturally follows: the 
utilization of the school plant in various ways for the social good of 
the community, the problem of controlling and developing to some 
extent its social Hfe and continuing the education of the community 
after the traditional school period, through lectures, continuation 
schools and evening schools. Still another aspect of current school 
extension is to be found in the playground movement, the develop- 
ment of vacation schools and of school gardening systems. These 
enterprises should all be considered from the point of view of their 
broad significance for both social amelioration and social progress. 
No phase of modern education is exciting more attention than that 
which concerns training for vocations. Closely associated with this 
and its logical outcome is the comparatively new movement of vo- 
cational guidance. The social importance of this work is so great 
that we are justified in devoting much space to it. Last of all, in the 
light of these vast extensions of the scope of educational ideals and 
practices, we shall attempt to state the principles imderlying the rela- 
tion of education to social progress and reform. 

Introduction to the Rural Situation and the Rural School 

Problem 

For several reasons the rural situation in America presents an in- 
teresting point at which to begin the study of the social relations 
of current education. The rural community forms a fairly distin- 
guishable type within our social body. It has its distinctive economic 
problems, and from meeting these problems distinctive social and men- 
tal characteristics have been developed. The rural community de- 
mands, therefore, a form of education particularly adapted to itself, 
its problems, its needs, its special type of social life. Moreover, at 
the present time the prevailing t3T)e of rural education is peculiarly 
isolated from the community ; it is peculiarly ill-adjusted to the actual 
needs of the social body which contributes to its support. 

Such, however, was not the case in the earlier periods of our coun- 
try's history. " The rural school of the early days, considering the 



26 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

needs of almost pioneer conditions, was efficient. It was efficient 
largely because it was closely linked with the life of the community 
in most of its interests. The men of the community turned out and 
together built the schoolhouse. The teacher was a member of the 
neighborhood group, literally living with them, for he generally spent 
a part of the year in each home.^ Young men and women between 
the ages of sixteen and twenty-one attended the school. The weekly 
literary society and frequent ' spelling bees ' contributed to the social 
life of the community with the school as the center. 

" Gradually the rural school has lost its hold upon the community. 
One by one the interests which brought the people and the school to- 
gether have ceased. Along with these interests has disappeared much 
educational efficiency. But the traditions which grew up with the 
little one-room schoolhouse have persisted." ^ 

For the continued stability and efficiency of the rural population 
it is unquestionably needful that the rural schools should be true and 
sympathetic interpreters of rural life. They should aim constantly 
to develop in country boys and girls a hearty appreciation of country 
life and of the possibilities afforded by that life for the exercise of the 
most varied abilities, for the play of the highest type of intelligence. 
They should ever set before the children the ideal that a career in the 
country is in no wise inferior to other careers for bright boys and girls ; 
that, indeed, opportunities in the country are both interesting and 
important, whether from the point of view of personal development, 
personal enjoyment and health, or of public service. As every one 
knows, however, the rural schools have conspicuously failed to do these 
things. Instead of educating boys and girls to an appreciation of 
country Hfe, they have tended to create a distaste for that life, they 
have Hterally educated the brighter country youth away from their 
natural sphere of activity. In the words of Sir Horace Plunkett, 
" At present, the country children are educated as if for the purpose 
of driving them into the towns." 

The causes for this as far as the schools are concerned are manifold ; 
among them may be mentioned inexperienced teachers educated in 

1 See Monroe's Cyclopedia of Education, article, "Boarding Around." 
2B. M. Davis, "The General Problem of the Relation of the Rural School to the Commu- 
nity Needs," Tenth Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education, Part II, p. 60. 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 27 

the cities, unacquainted with, and hence unappreciative of, country 
life, teachers who look upon their country experience as a probation 
leading to socially more desirable and better paid positions in the 
city. Such teachers inevitably turn the attention of their pupils to 
the city as the most desirable place for a career. Then, again, the 
formal, predominantly intellectual studies taught in the rural school 
contribute Httle or nothing to the opening of the children's minds to 
an appreciation of the interests of country life. These interests, in 
fact, receive no definite recognition in the traditional and still preva- 
lent country schools. Again, the wretched quality of the teaching 
tiurns the best youths to the improved modern schools of the urban 
commimities. 

The fact that the rural population, as far as mere numbers are con- 
cerned, has not kept pace with the urban is the best evidence that the 
forces at work in the coimtry are unfavorable to the proper develop- 
ment of country life. There are many causes in addition to inade- 
quate and false educational ideals which have contributed to the rapid 
exodus from the country to the city. Not many years since, the prices 
of farm products were so low that even the hard-working farmer could 
only with great diflSculty pay for his farm and support and educate 
his family. At its best, the life on the average farm was full of 
hardships, and the common comforts of existence seemed forever 
just out of reach. Better prices for farm products and the present 
gradual introduction into the country of some of the basic com- 
forts of life that have hitherto been the exclusive property of the 
city, improved methods of work, which relieve all members of the 
family of at least a part of the exhausting drudgery hitherto attend- 
ant upon farm life, are doing much to make country life more 
attractive. 

/ One aspect of country life which has undoubtedly contributed much 
to drive people to the city has been its isolation, its deplorable lack 
of opportunity for healthful social enjoyment. Country people are 
not, however, naturally unsociable. In the earlier days country life 
was certainly not lacking in this respect. It is the shifting, unstable 
character of the rural population of the second and third generation 
and the glamour of the amusements offered by the city that have 
brought about a gradual disintegration of the social life of the coimtry. 



28 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

At the present time, skilled social workers are giving attention to ways 
of meeting this need.^ 

It is certain that the maintenance of comfortable, contented and 
rapidly increasing rural communities is absolutely essential to the 
stability of society as a whole. Already the urban population has 
so far outrun the rural that our country is in a condition of ex- 
tremely unstable equilibrium. Literally, there are not enough 
people engaged in producing foodstuffs to support the rapidly en- 
larging cities. The development of an attractive and profitable 
country life is then a crying social need. The rural schools have 
a most important part to play in the solution of this problem, al- 
though they cannot, of course, do all. There are already many excel- 
lent attempts on the part of the schools in certain communities to 
do something along much-needed lines. The important thing, just 
now, is to familiarize rural communities in general with what is being 
done, in certain places, to educate them up to the point at which they 
will demand similar services. Every one who has made an investiga- 
tion of the subject notes the indifference which prevails so largely over 
the country toward the most needed improvements. It is to be hoped 
that better prices for farm products and farm lands will attract larger 
and larger numbers of energetic and trained young men and women to 
farm life. If such a movement can once be set up, it will inevitably 
react upon the schools, which will in turn be able to operate in many 
ways to render the life more interesting. 

The chief Unes along which efforts are being expended to-day are as 
follows : — 

(a) Development of a course of study for the country schools which 
will furnish more definite preparation for country life and for the vari- 
ous phases of agriculture and animal husbandry. 

(b) The securing of teachers who will be more thoroughly in sym- 
pathy and more thoroughly acquainted with farm life and farm 
problems. 

(c) The development of the school as a center of social and in- 
tellectual life in the community. 

1 See Stern's Neighborhood Entertainments in the Young Farmer's Series. The entire 
series is worthy of attention to one interested in rural amelioration. New York, Sturgis & 
Walton. 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 29 

(<f) The development of the agricultural high school. 

(e) Organization of boys' and girls' farm clubs. 

(/") Extension of rural libraries. 

(g) Consolidated rural schools. 

Experiments thus far are largely tentative, but are most worthy of 
study. In the source material which follows, these problems are 
further outlined, and illustrations of practical work are offered. In 
connection with the study of this material and of the problems which 
follow, the student should try to determine in his own mind the most 
promising lines of development and the ones which, under existing 
conditions are most practicable. 

The Hesperia Movement 

The gulf between parent and teacher is too common a phenomenon 
to need exposition. The existence of the chasm is probably due more 
to carelessness, to the pressure of time, or to indolence than to any more 
serious delinquencies ; yet all will admit the disastrous effects that flow 
from the fact that there is not the close intellectual and spiritual sympa- 
thy that there should be between the school and the home. It needs no 
argument to demonstrate the value of any movement that has for its 
purpose the bridging of the gulf. But it is an omen of encouragement 
to find that there are forces at work designed to bring teacher and 
school patron into a closer working harmony. A statement of the 
history and methods of some of these agencies may therefore well have 
a place in a discussion of rural progress, for the movements to be 
described are essentially rural school movements. Of first interest is 
an attempt which has been made in the state of Michigan to bridge 
the gulf — to create a common standing ground for both teacher and 
parent — and on that basis to carry on an educational campaign that 
it is hoped will result in the many desirable conditions which, a priori, 
might be expected from such a union. At present the movement is 
confined practically to the rural schools. It consists in the organiza- 
tion of a county Teachers and Patrons' Association, with a membership 
of teachers and school patrons, properly officered. Its chief method 
of work is to hold one or more meetings a year, usually in the country 
or in small villages, and the program is designed to cover educa- 
tional questions in such a way as to be of interest and profit to both 
teachers and farmers. 

This movement was indigenous to Michigan — its founders worked 
out the scheme on their own initiative, and to this day its promoters 
have never drawn upon any resources outside the state for suggestion 



30 



SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 



or plan. But if the friends of rural education elsewhere shall be at- 
tracted by this method of solving one of the vexed phases of their prob- 
lem, I hope that they will describe it as " the Hesperia movement." 
For the movement originated in Hesperia, was developed there, and its 
entire success in Hesperia was the reason for its further adoption. 
Hesperia deserves any renown that may chance to come from the 
widespread organization of Teachers and Patrons' Associations. 

And where is Hesperia ? It lies about forty miles north and west of 
Grand Rapids — a mere dot of a town, a small country village at least 
twelve or fifteen miles from any railroad. It is on the extreme eastern 
side of Oceana County, surrounded by fertile farming lands, which 
have been populated by a class of people who may be taken as a type 
of progressive, successful, intelligent American farmers.^ Many of 
them are of Scotch origin. Partly because of their native energy, 
partly, perhaps, because their isolation made it necessary to develop 
their own institutions, these people believe in and support good schools, 
the Grange, and many progressive movements. 

For several years there had existed in Oceana County the usual 
county teachers' association. But, because Hesperia was so far from 
the center of the county, the teachers who taught schools in the vicinity 
could rarely secure a meeting of the association at Hesperia; and in 
turn they found it difficult to attend the meetings held in the western 
part of the county. A few years ago it chanced that this group of 
teachers was composed of especially bright, energetic, and original 
young men and women. They determined to have an association of 
their own. It occurred to some one that it would add strength to their 
organization if the farmers were asked to meet with them. The idea 
seemed to " take," and the meetings became quite popular. This 
was during the winter of 1 885-1 886. Special credit for this early- 
venture belongs to Mr. E. L. Brooks, still of Hesperia and an ex-presi- 
dent of the present association, and to Dr. C. N. Sowers, of Benton 
Harbor, Mich., who was one of the teachers during the winter named, 
and who was elected secretary of the Board of School Examiners in 
1887. Mr. Brooks writes: — 

"The programs were so arranged that the participants in discus- 
sions and in the reading of papers were about equally divided between 
teachers and patrons. An active interest was awakened from the start. 
For one thing, it furnished a needed social gathering during the winter 
for the farmers. The meetings were held on Saturdays, and the school- 
house favored was usually well filled. The meetings were not held at 
only one schoolhouse but were made to circulate among the different 
schools. These gatherings were so successful that similar societies 
were organized in other portions of the county." 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 31 

In 1892, Mr. D. E. McClure, who has since (1896-1900) been deputy 
superintendent of public instruction of Michigan, was selected county- 
school commissioner of Oceana County. Mr. McClure is a man of 
great enthusiasm and made a most successful commissioner. He con- 
ceived the idea that this union of teachers and patrons could be made 
of the greatest value, in stimulating both teachers and farmers to re- 
newed interest in the real welfare of the children as well as a means 
of securing needed reforms. His first effort was to prepare a list 
of books suitable for pupils in all grades of the rural schools. He 
also prepared a rural lecture course, as well as a plan for securing 
libraries for the schools. All these propositions were adopted by a 
union meeting of teachers and farmers. His next step was to unite the 
interests of eastern Oceana County and Western Newaygo County 
(Newaygo lying directly east of Oceana), and in 1893 there was organ- 
ized the " Oceana and Newaygo Counties Joint Grangers and Teachers' 
Association," the word " Granger " being inserted because of the 
activity of the Grange in support of the movement. Mr. McClure has 
pardonable pride in this effort of his, and his own words will best de- 
scribe the development of the movement : — 

" This association meets Thursday night and continues in session until 
Saturday night. Some of the best speakers in America have addressed 
the association. Dr. Arnold Tompkins, in speaking before the asso- 
ciation, said it was a wonderful association and the only one of its char- 
acter in the United States. 

" What was my ideal in organizing such associations? 

" I. To unite the farmers who pay the taxes that support the schools, 
the homemakers, the teachers, the pupils, into a cooperative work for 
better rural school education. 

"2. To give wholesome entertainment in the rural districts, which 
from necessity are more or less isolated. 

"3. To create a taste for good American literature in home and 
school, and higher ideals of citizenship. 

" 4. Summed up in all, to make the rural schools character builders, to 
rid the districts of surroundings which destroy character, such as imkept 
school yards, foul, nasty outhouses, poor unfit teachers. These reforms, 
you understand, come only through a healthy educational sentiment 
which is aroused by a sympathetic cooperation of farm, home, and school. 

" What results have I been able to discover growing out of this work? 
Ideals grow so slowly that one cannot measure much progress in a 
few years. We are slaves to conditions, no matter how hard, and we 
suffer them to exist rather than arouse ourselves and shake them off. 
The immediate results are better schools, yards, outbuildings, school- 
rooms, teachers, literature for rural people to read. 



32 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

" Many a father and mother whose lives have been broken upon the 
wheel of labor have heard some of America's orators, have read some 
of the world's best books, because of this movement, and their lives 
have been made happier, more influential, more hopeful. 

" Thousands of people have been inspired, made better, at the Hes- 
peria meetings." 

In western Michigan the annual gathering at Hesperia is known 
far and wide as " the big meeting." The following extract from 
the Michigan Moderator-Topics indicates in the editor's breezy 
way the impression the meeting for 1906 made upon an observer: — 

" Hesperia scores another success. Riding over the fourteen miles 
from the railroad to Hesperia with Governor Warner and D. E. 
McClure, we tried to make the latter believe that the crowd would not 
be forthcoming on that first night of the fourteenth annual ' big meet- 
ing.' It was zero weather and mighty breezy. For such a movement 
to succeed two years is creditable, to hold out for five is wonderful, 
to last ten is marvelous, but to grow bigger and better for fourteen 
years is Httle short of miraculous. McClure is recognized as the father 
of the movement, and his faith didn't waver a hair's breadth. And 
sure enough, there was the crowd — standing room only, to hear the 
governor and see the great cartoonist, J. T. McCutcheon of the Chicago 
Tribune. For three evenings and two days the big hall is crowded 
with patrons, pupils and teachers from the towns and country round. 
During the fourteen years that these meetings have been held, the coun- 
try community has heard some of the world's greatest speakers. The 
plan has been adopted by other counties in Michigan and other states 
both east and west. Its possibilities and its power for good is im- 
measurable. Every one connected with it may well feel proud of the 
success attending the now famous * Hesperia movement.' " 

In 1897, Kent County, Michigan (of which Grand Rapids is the 
county seat), organized a Teachers and Patrons' Association that is 
worth a brief description, although in more recent years its work has 
been performed by other agencies. It nevertheless serves as a good 
example of a well-organized association designed to unite the school 
and home interests of rural communities. It was for several years 
signally successful in arousing interest in all parts of the county. Be- 
sides, it made a departure from the Oceana-Newaygo plan which must 
be considered advantageous for most counties. The Hesperia meet- 
ing is an annual affair, with big crowds and abundant enthusiasm. 
The Kent County association was itinerant. The membership in- 
cluded teachers, school officers, farmers generally and even pupUs. An 
attempt was made to hold monthly meetings during the school year, 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 33 

but for various reasons only five or six meetings a year were held. The 
meetings usually occurred in some Grange hall, the Grange furnishing 
entertainment for the guests. There were usually three sessions — 
Friday evening and Saturday forenoon and afternoon. The average 
attendance was nearly five hundred, about one tenth being teachers ; 
many teachers as well as farmers went considerable distances to attend. 

The Kent County association did not collect any fees from its mem- 
bers, the Teachers' Institute fund of the county being sufficient to pro- 
vide for the cost of lectures at the association meetings. Permission 
for this use of the fund was obtained from the state superintendent 
of public instruction. Some counties have a membership fee ; at Hes- 
peria the fee is fifty cents, and a membership ticket entitles its holder 
to a reserved seat at all sessions. The Kent County association also 
suggested a reading course for its members. 

The success of the work in Kent County was due primarily to the fact 
that the educators and the farmers and their leaders are in especially 
close sympathy. And right there is the vital element of success in 
this work. The initiative must be taken by the educators, but the play 
must be thoroughly democratic, and teacher and farmer must be equally 
recognized in all particulars. The results of the work in Kent County 
were thus summarized by the commissioner of schools of the county: 

" To teachers, the series of meetings is a series of mid-year institutes. 
Every argument in favor of institutes applies with all its force to these 
associations. To farmers they afford a near-by lecture course, acces- 
sible to all members of the family, and of as high grade as those main- 
tained in the larger villages. To the schools, the value is in the general 
sentiment and interest awakened. The final vote on any proposed 
school improvement is taken at the annual school meeting, and the pre- 
vailing sentiment in the neighborhood has everything to do with this 
vote. And not only this, but the general interest of patrons may 
help and cheer both teacher and pupils throughout the year. On 
the other hand, indifference and neglect may freeze the life out of the 
most promising school. There is no estimating the value to the schools 
in this respect." 

The Kent County association had a very simple constitution. It is 
appended here for the benefit of any who may desire to begin this be- 
neficent work of endeavoring to draw more closely together rural schools 
and country homes. 

" Article I. — Name 

"This association shall be known as " The Kent County Teachers 
and Patrons' Association." 



34 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

" Article II. — Membership 

" Any person may become a member of this association by assenting 
to this constitution and paying the required membership fee. 

" Article III. — Objects 

" The object of this association shall be the promotion of better educa- 
tional facilities in all ways and the encouragement of social and intel- 
lectual culture among its members. 

" Article IV. — Meetings 

"At least five meetings of the association shall be held each year, 
during the months of October, November, January, February, and 
March, the dates and places of meetings to be determined and an- 
nounced by the executive committee. Special meetings may be called 
at the election of the executive committee. 

''Article Y. — Officers 

''Section i. The officers of the association shall be a president, a 
vice president, a secretary, a treasurer, and an executive committee 
composed of five members to be appointed by the president. 

" Sec. 2. The election of officers shall occur at the regular meeting 
of the association in the month of October. 

"Sec. 3. The duties of each officer shall be such as parliamentary 
usage assigns, respectively, according to Cushing's Manual. 

" Sec. 4. It shall be the duty of the executive committee to arrange 
a schedule of meetings and to provide suitable lecturers and instructors 
for the same on or before the first day of September of each year. It 
shall be the further duty of this committee to devise means to defray 
the expenses incurred for lecturers and instructors. All meetings 
shall be public, and no charge for admission shall be made, except 
by order of the executive committee. 

" Article VI. — Course of Reading 

"Section i. The executive committee may also recommend a course 
of reading to be pursued by members, and it shall be their duty to 
make such other recommendations from time to time as shall have 
for their object the more effective carrying out of the purposes of 
the association." 

Whether the Oceana County plan of a set annual meeting or the Kent 
County plan of numerous itinerant meetings is the better one depends 
much on the situation. It is not improbable that itinerant meetings. 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 35 

with an annual " round-up " meeting of the popular type as the great 
event of the school year, would be very satisfactory. 

Other counties in the state have taken up the Hesperia idea. In 
some cases associations similar to the Kent County association have 
been developed. More recently the work has frequently been carried 
on by the county commissioner of schools directly. " Institutes on 
wheels " have become a factor in the campaign for better rural schools. 
One commissioner writes: — 

" My aim has been to bring into very close relationship teachers, 
patrons, and pupils. This is done, in part, in the following manner : I 
engage, for a week's work at a time, some educator of state or national 
reputation to ride with me on my visitation of schools. Through the 
day, schools are visited, pupils' work inspected, and in the evening 
a rally is held in the locality visited in that day. A circuit is made 
during the week, and Friday evening and the Saturday following a 
general round-up is held. The results of this work have been far- 
reaching. Teachers, patrons and pupils are brought into close rela- 
tionship and a higher standard of education is developed." 

The form of organization matters little. The essential idea of the 
" Hesperia movement " was to bring together the teacher and the 
school patron on a common platform, to a common meeting place, to 
discuss subjects of common interest. This idea must be vitalized in 
the rural commimity before that progress in rural school matters which 
we desire shall become a fact. 

It is only fair to say that administrators of rural school systems 
in several states are attempting in one way or another, and have done 
so for some years, to bring together teachers and school patrons. In 
Iowa there are mothers' clubs organized for the express purpose of pro- 
moting the best interests of the schools. In many of the communities 
the county superintendent organizes excursions, and holds school con- 
tests which are largely attended by patrons of the schools. 

Ohio has what is known as the " Ohio School Improvement Federa- 
tion." Its objects are: (i) to create a wholesome educational senti- 
ment in the citizenship of the state ; (2) to remove the school from 
partisan politics; (3) to make teaching a profession, protected and 
justly compensated. County associations of the federation are being 
organized and the effort is being made to reach the patrons of the 
schools and to create the right public sentiment. In many of the 
teachers' institutes there is one session devoted entirely to subjects 
that are of special interest to the school board members and to the 
patrons of the schools. Educational rallies are held in many of the 
townships, at which efifort is made to get together all the citizens and 
have an exhibition of school work. 



36 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

In Minnesota, a law was passed recently to the effect that school 
ofl&cers within a county may attend one educational convention a year 
upon call of the county superintendent. They receive therefor three 
dollars for one day's services and five cents mileage each way for at- 
tendance. Already a number of very successful conventions have been 
held, wherein all school districts in the counties have been represented. 

The county institutes in Pennsylvania are largely attended by the 
public and are designed to reach patrons as well as teachers. 

In Kansas, county superintendents have organized school patrons' 
associations and school board associations, both of which definitely 
purpose to bring together the school and the home and the officers of 
the school into one body and cooperate with individuals for the purpose 
of bettering the school conditions. 

Doubtless other states are carrying on similar methods. 

An interesting movement wholly independent of the Hesperia plan 
has recently been put into operation under the leadership of Princi- 
pal Myron T. Scudder of the State Normal School, New Paltx, N.Y. 
He has organized a series of country school conferences. They grew 
out of a recognized need, but were an evolution rather than a defi- 
nite scheme. The school commissioner, the teachers, and the Grange 
people of the community have 'joined in making up the conference. 
An attempt is also made to interest the pupils. At one conference there 
was organized an athletic league for the benefit of the boys of the county 
school. The practical phases of nature study and manual training are 
treated on the program, and at least one session is made a parents' 
meeting. There is no organization whatever. 

Dr. A. E. Winship, of the Journal of Education, Boston, had the 
following editorial in the issue of June 21, 1906 : — 

" It is now fourteen years since D. E. McClure brought into being 
the Hesperia movement, which is a great union of educational and 
farmer forces, in a midwinter Chautauqua, as it were. Twelve miles 
from the railroad, in the slight village of Hesperia, a one-street village, 
one side of the street being in one county and the other side in another, 
for three days and evenings in midwinter each year, in a ramshackle 
building, eight hundred people from all parts of the two counties sit 
in reserved seats, for which they pay a good price, and listen to one or 
two ngtable speakers and a number of local functionaries. One half 
of the time is devoted to education and the other to farm interests. 

" It is a great idea, well worked out, and after fourteen years it main- 
tains its lustiness, but I confess to disappointment that the idea has not 
spread more extensively. It is so useful there, and the idea is so sug- 
gestive, that it should have been well-nigh universal, and yet despite 
occasional bluffs at it, I know of no serious effort to adopt it elsewhere, 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 37 

unless the midwinter meeting at Shelby, in one of these two counties, 
can be considered a spread of the idea. This child of the Hesperia 
movement, in one of the two counties, and only twenty miles away, 
had this year many more in attendance than have ever been at Hes- 
peria. 

" This work of uniting more closely the interests, sympathies, and in- 
telligence of the teachers and patrons of the rural school has had a test 
in Michigan of sufficient length to prove that it is a practicable scheme. 
No one questions the desirability of the ends it is prepared to compass, 
and experience in Michigan shows not only that where the educators 
have sufiicient enterprise, tact, enthusiasm, and persistence the neces- 
sary organizations can be perfected, but that substantial results follow. 
For the sake of the better rural schools, then, it is sincerely to be hoped 
that the ' Hesperia movement ' may find expression in numerous 
teachers and patrons' associations in at least the great agricultural 
states." 

K. L. Butterfield, Chapters in Rural Progress, courtesy of University of Chicago Press. 

The Rural School and the Community 

Among the great phenomena of our time is the growth of the school 
idea — the realization of the part that the school plays in our civili- 
zation and in the training of our youth for life. Our New England 
fathers started the school in order that their children might learn to 
read the Scriptures, and thus that they might get right ideas of their 
religious duty. Even after this aim was outgrown, our schools for gen- 
erations did Httle more than to teach the use of the mere tools of knowl- 
edge ; to read, to write and to cipher were the great aims of the school- 
room. Even geography and grammar were rather late arrivals. Then 
came the idea that the school should train children for citizenship, 
and it was argued that the chief reason why schools be supported at 
pubHc expense was in order that good citizens should be trained there. 
History and civil government were put into the course in obedience 
to this theory. Another step was taken when physiology was added, 
because it was an acknowledgment that the schools should do some- 
thing to train youth in the individual art of living. Still another step 
was taken when manual training and domestic science were brought 
into our city schools, because these studies emphasize the fact that 
the schools must do something to train workers. And finally we have 
at present the idea gaining a strong foothold that the schools must 
train the child to fill its place in the world of men ; to see all the rela- 
tions of life; to be fitted to live in human society. This idea really 
embraces all of the other ideas. It implies that the schools shall not 
only teach each individual the elements of knowledge, that they shall 
train for citizenship, that they shall train men in the art of living, 



38 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

that they shall aid in preparing for an occupation, but that they shall 
do all of these things, and do them not merely for the good of the 
individual, but for the good of society as a whole. 

And not only is there a feeling that the pupil in school can be brought 
into closer touch with the life of the community, but that the school 
as an institution can be made more useful to the community as a whole. 
This double thought has been expressed in the phrase, " Make the school 
a social center," and practically it is being slowly worked out in nu- 
merous city schools. How far can this idea be developed in the country 
schools ? 

The purpose of this chapter is not to deal in the theory of the subject 
nor to argue particularly for this view of the function of the school, 
but rather to try to show some methods by which the rural school and 
the farm community actually can be brought into closer relations. 
In this way we may perhaps indicate that there is a better chance for 
cooperation between the rural school and the farm community than 
we have been accustomed to believe, and that this closer relation is 
worth striving for. Five methods will be suggested by which the 
rural school can become a social center. Some of these have already 
been tried in rural communities, some of them have been tried in cities, 
and some of them have not been tried at all. 

I. The first means of making the rural school a social center is through 
the course of study. It is here that the introduction of nature study 
into our rural schools would be especially helpful. This nature study, 
when properly followed, approves itself both to educators and to 
farmers. It is a pedagogical principle recognized by every modern 
teacher that in education it is necessary to consider the environment of 
the child, so that the school may not be to him " a thing remote and 
foreign." The value of nature study is recognized not only in thus 
making possible an intelligent study of the country child's environ- 
ment, but in teaching a love of nature, in giving habits of correct ob- 
servation, and in preparing for the more fruitful study of science in 
later years. Our best farmers are also coming to see that nature 
study in the rural schools is a necessity, because it will tend to give 
a knowledge of the laws that govern agriculture, because it will teach 
the children to love the country, because it will show the possibilities 
of living an intellectual life upon the farm. Nature study, therefore, 
will have a very direct influence in bringing the child into close touch 
with the whole life of the farm community. 

But it is not so much a matter of introducing new studies — the old 
studies can be taught in such a way as to make them seem vital and 
himian. Take, for instance, geography. It used to be approached 
from the standpoint of the solar system. It now begins with the 
schoolhouse and the pupils' homes, and works outward from the things 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 39 

that the child sees and knows to the things that it must imagine. His- 
tory, writing, reading, the sciences, and even other subjects can be 
taught so as to connect them vitally and definitely with the life of the 
farm community. To quote Colonel Parker, who suggests the valu- 
able results of such a method of teaching : — 

"It would make a strong, binding union of the home and the 
school, the farm methods and the school methods. It would bring 
the farm into the school and project the school into the farm. It 
would give parent and teacher one motive, in the carrying out of 
which both could heartily join. The parent would appreciate and 
judge fairly the work of the school, the teacher would honor, dignify 
and elevate the work of the farm." 

The study of the landscape of the near-by country, the study of the 
streams, the study of the soils, studies that have to do with the location 
of homes, of villages, the study of the weather, of the common plants, 
of domestic animals — all of these things will give the child a better 
start in education, a better comprehension of the life he is to live, a 
better idea of the business of farming, a better notion about the im- 
portance of agriculture, and will tend to fit him better for future life 
either on the farm or anywhere else, than could any amount of the old- 
fashioned book knowledge. Is it not a strange fact that so many farmers 
will decry book knowledge when applied to the business of farming, 
and at the same time set so much store by the book learning that is 
given in the common arithmetic, the old-fashioned reader, and the 
dry grammar of the typical school? Of course any one pleading for 
this sort of study in the rural schools must make it clear that the or- 
dinary accomplishments of reading, writing and ciphering are not 
to be neglected. As a matter of fact, pupils under this method can be 
just as well trained in these branches as under the old plan. The point 
to be emphasized, however, is that a course of study constructed on 
this theory will tend to bring the school and the community closer 
together, will make the school of more use to the community, will 
give the commimity more interest in the school, while at the same 
time it will better prepare pupils to do their work in Hfe. 

2. A second way of making the rural school a social center is through 
the social activities of the pupils. This means that the pupils as a 
body can cooperate for certain purposes, and that this cooperation 
will not only secure some good results of an immediate character, 
results that can be seen and appreciated by every one, but that it will 
teach the spirit of cooperation — and there is hardly anything more 
needed to-day in rural life than this spirit of cooperation. The schools 
can perform no better service than in training young people to work 
together for common ends. In this work such things as special day 
programs, as for Arbor Day, Washington's Birthday, Pioneer Day; 



40 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

the holding of various school exhibitions ; the preparation of exhibits 
for county fairs, and similar endeavors, are useful and are being carried 
out in many of our rural schools. But the best example of this Avork 
is a plan that is being used in the state of Elaine, and is performed 
through the agency of ^Yhat is called a School Improvement League. 
The purposes of the league are: (i) to improve school grounds and 
buildings ; (2) to furnish suitable reading matter for pupils and pec^ple ; 
(3) to provide works of art for schoolrooms. There are three forms 
of the league: the local leagues organized in each school; the town 
leagues, whose membership consists of the officers of the local leagues ; 
and a state league, whose members are delegates from the town leagues 
and members of the local leagues, who hold school diplomas. Any 
pupil, teacher, school officer, or any other citizen may join the league 
on payment of the dues. The minimimi dues are one cent a month 
for each pupil, for other members not less than ten cents a term. But 
these dues may be made larger by vote of the league. Each town 
league sends a delegate to the meeting of the state league. Each 
league has the usual number of officers elected for one term. These 
leagues were hrst organized in 1S9S and they have already accomplished 
much. They have induced school committees to name various schools 
for distinguished American citizens, as Washington, Lincoln, and so 
forth. They gi\'e exhibitions and entertainments for the purpose of 
raising funds. Sometimes they use these funds to buy books for the 
schoolroom. The books are then loaned to the members of the league; 
at the end of the term this set of books is exchanged for another set of 
books from another school in the same township. In this way at 
slight expense each school may have the use of a large number of books 
every year. The same thing is done with pictures and works of art, 
these being purchased and exchanged in the same way. Through the 
eli'orts of the league schoolhouses have been improved inside and out 
and the school grounds improved. It is not so much the doing of 
new things that has been attempted by this league. The important 
item is that the school has been organized for these definite purposes, 
and the work is carried on systematically from year to year. It needs 
no argument to show the value of this sort of cooperation to the 
pupil, to the teacher, to the school, to the parents, and ultimately 
to the community as a whole. 

3. A third method is through cooperation between the home 
and the school, between the teacher and pupils on one side, and 
parents and taxpayers on the other side. Parents sometimes com- 
plain that the average school is a sort of a mill, or machine, into 
which their children are placed and turned out just so fast, and in 
just such condition. But if this is the case, it is partly the fault of 
the parents who do not keep in close enough touch with the work of 



THE SOCI-\L RESK^XSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 41 

the school. It is not that parents are nor in:ere?:ei in iheir children, 
but it is rather that they look at the school as so~eihing separate 
from the ordinar>- anairs of life. Now, nothing can be more neces- 
sar\- than that this notion should be done away with. There must 
be the closest cooperation between the home and school. How can 
this aToperation be brought about? Frequently parents are urged 
to ^•isit the schools. This is all right and proper, but it is not enough. 
There must be a doser relation than this. The teacher must know 
more about the home life of her pu^wls, and the parents must know 
far mofe about the whole purpose and spirit, as well as the method, 
of the sdiool. A great deal of good has been done by the joint 
meeting of teacheis and school officers. It is a very wise de\-ice, 
and should be kept up. But altc^ther the most promising de- 
^-elopment along this line is the so-called " Hesperia mo\-emait," 
described in another chapter. These meetings of school patrons 
and teachas take up the work of the school in a way that will 
interest both teachas and farmers. Tliey bring the teachers and 
farmers into doser toudi socially and intdlectually. They disperse 
fogs of mfeunderstanding. They insjHre to doser cooperation. They 
create mutual sympathy. Hiey are sure to result in bringing the 
teacher into closer touch with community life and with the social prob- 
lems of the farm. And they are almost equally sure to arouse the in- 
terest of the entire communit^i*, not only in the school as an in5tiin:i:n 
and in the possibilities of the work it may do, but also in the work oi 
that teadier who is for the time being serving a particular rural sdux^ 
4. A fourth method is by making the schodhouse a meedng place 
for the community, more e^xedaUy for the intdlectual aiKi aesth^c 
3cti^-ities of the commnnity. A good esanqple of this kind of work 
is the John Spry Sdiocd of Chicago. In connection with this sdiool 
there is a lecture course each winter; tnere i? :. ~ fical sodety that 
meets e\-er\- Tuesday evooing; there is a nifn j : .ir :h?.t meets eveiy- 
two weeks to discuss municipal (HoUems :. ni :n e mi : : : f n: r :. : : n ~ e 
conditions; th»e b a mothers* council ::::ir;: e ;: ." ; " eeks . 
th«e is a titeraiyand dramatic sodetr. :t :: p e er :;!;. im- 
posed of manbeis of higji sdiool age. .11 ^ ...i -i; 5 ...lespeare 
piardcalaiiy ; there is a dresanaking ani . i ?:::f:; : feiing two 
e\-enings a we^ to study the catting c: r:.: :;::f ;. : m.: 
etc.; a food study and cooking dub alj; nf::.; : 
we^; an inA'oitive and mechanical cl.i:. nre:::; : 
wedL and tending to deveio'?' the inven::' e mi ni;: 
of agroupof y:.in^ n:;? : ..rtdub; am:. :: f : -ic, 

games, rfii'-r :f-:-~ ; - " ^::i\f i::i rmr — ; v:? 

for boys ::::.;:;: 7: irf : u: ; ::: 1 i:: 




42 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

It will not be feasible for the rural school to carry out such a pro- 
gram as this, but do we realize how large are the possibilities of 
this idea of making the rural school a community center? No doubt 
one of the advantages of the centralized rural school will be to give 
a central meeting place for the township, and to encourage work of 
the character that has been described. Of course, the Grange and 
farmers' clubs are doing much along these lines, but is it not possible 
for the district school also to do some useful work of this character? 
Singing schools and debating clubs were quite a common thing in 
the rural schools forty years ago, and there are many rural schools 
to-day that are doing work of this very kind. Is there any reason, 
for example, why the country schoolhouse should not offer an evening 
school during a portion of the winter, where the older pupils who have 
left the regular work of the school can carry on studies especially in 
agriculture and domestic science? There is need for this sort of thing, 
and if our agricultural colleges and the departments of public instruc- 
tion, and the local school supervisors, and the country teachers, and 
the farmers themselves could come a little closer together on these 
questions, the thing could be done ! 

5. Fifth and last, as a method for making the school a social center, 
is the suggestion that the teacher herself shall become something of 
a leader in the farm community. The teacher ought to be not only 
a teacher of the pupils, but in some sense a teacher of the community. 
Is there not need that some one should take the lead in inspiring 
every one in the community to read better books, to buy better pic- 
tures, to take more interest in the things that make for culture and 
progress? There are special difficulties in a country community. 
The rural teacher is usually a transient ; she secures a city school as 
soon as she can ; she is often poorly paid ; she is sometimes inexperi- 
enced; frequently the labor of the school absorbs all her time and 
energy. Unfortunately these things are, but they ought not to be so. 
And we shall never have the ideal rural school until we have conditions 
favorable to the kind of work just described. The country teacher 
ought to understand the country community, ought to have some 
knowledge of the problems that the farmers have to face, ought to 
have some appreciation of the peculiar conditions of farm life. Every 
teacher should have some knowledge of rural sociology.^ The normal 
school should make this subject a required subject in the course, 
especially for country teachers. Teachers' institutes and _ reading 
circles should in some way provide this sort of thing. This is one of 
the most important means of bringing the rural school into closer 
touch with the farm community. Ten years ago Henry Sabin of 
Iowa, one of the keenest students of the rural school problem, in speak- 
ing of the supervision of country schools, said: — ' 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 43 

" The supervisor of rural schools should be acquainted with the ma- 
terial resources of his district. He should know not only what con- 
stitutes good farming, but the prevailing industry of the region should 
be so familiar to him that he can converse intelligently with the in- 
habitants, and convince them that he knows something besides books. 
The object is not alone to gain influence over them, but to bring the 
school into closer touch with the home life of the community about. 
It is not to invite the farmer to the school, but to take the school to 
the farm, and to show the pupils that here before their eyes are the 
foundations upon which have been built the great natural sciences." 

The program needed to unify rural school and farm community 
is, then, first to enrich the course of study by adding nature study 
and agriculture, and about these coordinating the conventional 
school subjects; second, to encourage the cooperation of the pupils, 
especially for the improvement of the school and its surroundings ; 
third, to bring together for discussion and acquaintance the teachers and 
the patrons of the school ; fourth, so far as possible to make the school- 
house a meeting place for the community, for young people as well 
as for older people, where music, art, social culture, literature, study 
of farming, and, in fact, anything that has to do with rural education, 
may be fostered ; and fifth, to expect the teacher to have a knowledge 
of the industrial and general social conditions of agriculture, especially 
those of the community in which her lot is cast. 

K. L. Butterfield. Reprinted by courtesy of the University of Chicago Press from 
Chapters in Rural Progress. 



Community Work in the Agricultural High School 

The methods of community work fitting specific places must be 
judged by individual conditions. A typical procedure is that of the 
Agricultural High School of Baltimore County, Maryland. This 
school has been in operation during but two school years, yet it has 
already carried out at least one type of work with each class of people 
in its neighborhood: farmers, farmers' wives, young people, rural- 
school teachers, and children. As a result, the people are frankly 
and heartily interested in the school and already regard it as one of 
their best possessions. 

The school is a small high school maintained by county school 
funds. It is thus an integral part of the school system of the county. 
It is located out in the open country, not adjacent to any town or 
village, but near a station of the railroad by which many of the high 
school students come daily. Four elementary schools totaling ninety 
pupils were consolidated in two classes which meet in the high school 



44 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

building. The high school department had in the first year fifty 
students. School wagons and private conveyances bring many whose 
homes are not adjacent to the railroad. The school has seven acres 
of ground and a good granite building which has five classrooms, 
the two largest of which can be converted into a hall for meetings, 
seating three hundred. There are a manual training room, a domes- 
tic science room, an agricultural laboratory, a farm machinery room, 
and toilet rooms in the basement. The school has its own heating, 
lighting and water supply system. It teaches all the usual high school 
subjects except foreign languages, in place of which it offers agricul- 
ture, domestic science and manual training. In short, the school 
resembles others over the country in its equipment and courses. 

When the school started, it was decided as a definite part of its policy 
that for the fulfillment of its possibilities, educational facilities must 
be offered for every class of persons in the community : men, women 
and children. Before the school building was completed, a mailing 
list of persons in the county was made. The principal was new in the 
community ; he knew no one. This list was to be his method of reach- 
ing all the folks. The list was compiled from subscription lists of 
county papers, poll lists of voters, memberships of farmers' clubs and 
granges, account books of physicians and lawyers, and other sources. 
When the list was made up into a cross-reference card index, a very 
valuable fund of information was obtainable about almost any one of 
interest in the county. It was not only possible thus to have a list 
of all persons living on farms or interested in agriculture, but also to 
tell at a glance whether they were persons of prominence or not, and 
even what their politics were supposed to be. Subsequent information 
is added to these cards, such as whether they answered a letter of in- 
quiry sent out by the school, whether they attended certain activi- 
ties of the school, and so forth. Ultimately this list should be of enor- 
mous value, as it will show those persons who can or cannot be expected 
to respond. Even at present it is possible to condense the list con- 
siderably by discarding for some purposes those whose interest is ap- 
parently in another direction. 

The first event was to be the dedication of the new building, the 
details of which were turned over to two farm clubs — one of men, 
the other of women. The men's club is known as the Junior Gun- 
powder Agricultural Club, the women's as the Women's Home In- 
terest Club. Both are composed of some of the most intelligent and 
progressive persons in the community. The clubs have been of great 
benefit to the neighborhood, even though they are small and somewhat 
exclusive organizations. Through all the community work of the school 
the men and women of these clubs have been so actively participant as 
to be of great assistance. If there were no farm clubs in the neighbor- 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 45 

hood, the school would organize them, because they are capable of so 
great assistance. 

Three thousand personal invitations, the names obtained from the 
card index, were sent out from the school for the dedication exercises. 
The best possible speakers were obtained. Of course the building was 
not nearly large enough to hold the folks, so that the exercises were 
held out doors, as many of the crowd as possible being seated on rough 
board benches. The women's club served a luncheon before the 
exercises to a large number of specially invited guests. Because the 
school owned no chairs, every one stood during the meal. 

At about the same time posters telling of what the school had to 
offer appeared all over the county. They were nailed up on trees at 
crossroads, and on post offices, blacksmith shops, schoolhouses, and 
even churches. The school believes in local advertising. When- 
ever a new organization or series of meetings is attempted, the local 
and city papers are given full information ; consequently, the school 
has much free publicity, all of which has aided its work. 

The community work started almost as soon as the regular classes. 
The first organization formed was a series of monthly meetings for 
rural school teachers. It seemed desirable to introduce elementary 
agriculture into the rural one-teacher schools, but difficulty had 
been experienced because of the feeling of incompetence on the part of 
the teacher. To overcome this, in part at least, the rural teachers 
were invited to the agricultural high school for an all-day session on 
one Saturday each month. The morning was spent on lessons in 
general school methods and administration given by experts furnished 
by the county school authorities. Each teacher brought a basket 
lunch and all ate together in the domestic science kitchen. The 
school served hot coffee or tea, some of the high school girls attired in 
their cooking uniforms acting as the waitresses. The afternoon was 
devoted to agriculture. The teachers were given one general lesson 
expounded from a textbook and then went to the agricultural labo- 
ratory where an exercise was carried through by each teacher. Care 
was taken to have these exercises such that they could be repeated in 
the rural schools without expensive apparatus. The object was not 
only to familiarize the teachers with methods and subject matter, 
but also to make them realize that real agricultural lessons were 
possible in their schools under their conditions. At the same time 
lessons in elementary agriculture, written by the principal with a 
view to local conditions, were printed in the monthly issues of a local 
educational publication which is sent free by the school authorities 
to every teacher in the county. By means of these lessons and the 
meetings at the school it was hoped that agriculture could gradually 
be introduced. The meetings were not successful. Transportation 



46 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

facilities were bad for those teachers coming from a distance. One 
teacher wrote that she could not get a horse to drive, and although she 
would gladly walk the ten miles each way necessary to reach the rail- 
road, she could hardly do so and catch the six o'clock train for the 
school. Others did from their slender salaries hire teams and a 
driver and then came twenty miles across country to attend the 
meetings. These could hardly be expected to keep that up indefi- 
nitely. Then, too, the weather combined to make conditions as bad 
as possible. One teacher came thirty miles to attend a meeting when 
the air was blinding with snowflakes and the drifts were kneedeep. 
She ought not to have come. Ultimately the principal felt sorrier 
for those rural teachers than he did for the lack of agriculture in the 
schools, so ceased holding meetings in the winter months. Another 
plan will be devised next year. 

A course of ten evening lectures for farmers was projected during 
the winter months. The school could not give a short course of any 
description during school hours because there were not teachers enough. 

It is not possible personally to teach in two places at once. The 
solution appeared to be a course of evening lectures, although there 
did not seem to be any definite demand for such a series. Persons 
being asked if a course would succeed said they did not know, or else 
that " maybe they would attend once or twice." It was decided to 
make the attempt, although the principal, who was to be the lecturer, 
was seriously advised to limit the projected course to five instead of 
ten lectures, because a failure would then be less disastrously apparent. 

It was decided to lecture on " Soils and Fertilizers" ; not that the 
principal knew more of that than other branches, but because the 
people seemed to know less and wanted the information. A new issue 
of posters was printed setting forth the time, date and place and sub- 
ject of the lectures, and these were placarded all over the county. 
The lectures were to be illustrated by experiments continued through- 
out almost all the course. Although alphabetically simple to the 
chemist, physicist and soil technologist, the experiments vitally in- 
terested the people. Those lamp chimneys and Bunsen flames 
hypnotically held the folks while the talk went on. Outlines for each 
lecture were made by mimeograph and distributed to each person. 
The audience was requested always to bring the previous outlines 
to the lectures for reference. The evenings were understood to be 
serious affairs, designed for those who wanted to know and not as an 
entertainment for the curious. As projected they were for men, but 
the women asked to be allowed to attend, and many did so through- 
out the course. The first lecture was attended by sixty persons, the 
second by ninety, the third by one hundred, and so on. For the entire 
course, good or bad weather included, the attendance averaged one 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 47 

hundred and twenty-five persons for each lecture, and this in an open 
farming country where practically every one had to drive through the 
dark over ice, snow and slush. There was no doubt about the suc- 
cess of the undertaking. At a spring meeting of a farmers' club a 
question was asked about the advisability of a certain soil treatment. 
At once came the answer from another farmer, " If you had attended 
the lectures last winter at the agricultural high school, you would not 
have to ask that; you would know." 

During the second year the winter lecture course was on " Dairying " 
and was given with at least equal success. 

After the close of the course of lectures, a Corn Congress was planned, 
corn being one of the chief crops of the county. Nothing of the kind 
had ever been held in the state before, but therein lay its charm. The 
affair was to last two days, with morning, afternoon and evening ses- 
sions of addresses each day. Speakers were secured from the National 
Department of Agriculture and from the Maryland State College and 
Experiment Station. Twelve speakers, some of the best in the 
country, held forth at the series of six sessions. All the addresses were 
directly on corn growing and cooking, for the women, too, had addresses 
and demonstrations. Posters, again, were issued, always printed in 
red on white paper, — the school colors, — and all persons, clubs, 
granges and schools were invited to enter an exhibit of ten ears of 
corn in the show. It was pointed out again to the principal that there 
were only enough persons in the neighborhood to make one good- 
sized audience, and that while they might attend a single session 
they would not come to more. The result would thus be that either 
all would attend the best advertised address and leave the others to 
be given to empty seats, or else that there would be only a few people 
at all sessions. The outcome was different, for all sessions were well 
attended. People came and stayed throughout the two days, only 
going home to sleep. In all, over one hundred and eighty exhibitors 
sent in ten or more ears of corn, and almost one thousand persons 
attended the sessions. Twenty rural schools held small preliminary 
shows of their own and sent the best exhibits to the Corn Congress. 
Simultaneous meetings in different parts of the same building were held 
for men, women and children. Although seats were at a premium, 
it only added to the interest. Meals were served at a lunch counter 
by the ladies of the women's club, who again came to the aid of the 
school, giving the proceeds to the school treasury. For the corn 
show, only ribbon prizes were bestowed, although the city stores 
would have been willing to contribute cook stoves, carpet sweepers, 
washing machines, and like articles for prizes ; yet, iDecause the school 
believes in amateur rather than professional sports, the ribbons alone 
were the prizes. At the close of the last session the prize exhibits of 



48 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

corn were sold at auction to the highest bidders. By this means good 
seed corn was distributed throughout the neighborhood. The Corn 
Congress was a success. Everybody is getting ready for a bigger, 
better and busier one this year. 

For the women a series of monthly meetings was held on Saturday 
afternoons. Using the card list again, postal cards were sent out to 
three hundred women living within driving distance of the school. 
The three school wagons were run over the regular routes to bring them 
to the meetings. Thus many women who would have been unable, 
because of the farm work, to secure a man and a team to take them 
to the school were enabled to attend. The meetings opened by a 
general session at which one person spoke for fifteen minutes. This 
person was always some one of prominence and ability, some one 
vitally concerned in the world's work. The address was followed by 
music. The musicians and speakers have always willingly contributed 
their services, and usually came from the city. Following the general 
meeting, the women divided into four groups, which were self-chosen 
and continuous throughout the year; at the end of each year the 
groups change. 

The first group is for the study of domestic science. The women do 
not attend a demonstration, but each works with the individual equip- 
ment placed at her disposal. Nickel-plated cook stoves, bright pans 
and clean china add to the attractiveness of the work. It is the same 
type of study given the children. 

The second group does carpentry in the manual training room. 
The women are taught to saw, plane, hammer and do other simpler 
operations. It will not be necessary for those women to wait until 
their husbands find time to build the chicken coops. 

The third group is known as the group in home crafts. Instruction 
is given in chair caning, rug weaving, Indian basketry, stenciling, etc. 

The fourth group takes up a study of modern literature. It is 
designed for those persons who prefer to find in the meetings a rest 
and relaxation rather than a means of industry. Various modern 
authors are successively considered, with readings from each. Re- 
cently other groups have been formed in millinery, embroidery and 
dress fitting. 

The meetings have had an average attendance of one hundred at 
each meeting and are well filling the place for which they were intended. 

A literary society was formed for young people in the neighbor- 
hood who happened to be too old to go to school. The society meets 
once in two weeks and has a membership of about one hundred per- 
sons who pay dues for its maintenance. Spelling bees, debates and 
other so-called literary exercises are held, and serve to engender a bet- 
ter neighborhood spirit, while enlivening the long winter evenings. 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 49 

A reading circle on the Chautauqua plan meets every two weeks, 
an interesting offshoot of the main society. 

During the summer the school conducts experiments on the home 
farms of its pupils. All boys in the high school department are 
expected to perform at home an experiment of their own selection 
during the summer vacation. This is in order to bring the work of the 
school to the people at large as well as concretely to emphasize the 
instruction of the winter in the mind of the student. The experi- 
ments, scattered over a territory twenty-five miles long by five miles 
broad, attract much attention among the neighbors, and are an effi- 
cient demonstration of agricultural ideas. They range over many 
subjects according to the choice of the student. Many are variety 
tests of corn from seed furnished by the school, the corn being grown 
under modern methods by the student. Other students are testing 
herds of dairy cows, weighing and recording the milk at each milk- 
ing and making frequent Babcock tests of the butter-fat content, 
while still others conduct a variety test of cowpeas or of popcorn. 
The experiments are closely watched from the school, the principal 
visiting them frequently during the summer and advising the students 
concerning them. This brings the principal in touch with the home 
life of the students and gives the boys the impetus necessary, some- 
times, to carry on a flagging experiment. 

In the second year the experimental work of the school grew 
enormously. Because of the tests conducted during the first summer, 
the school found it wise to continue largely the variety tests of corn. 
In the first year four varieties of corn were given to each of fifteen stu- 
dents in the school, and these tested under identical conditions with 
the home variety of corn. To the surprise of the teacher, every one 
of the four varieties supplied surpassed in yield the home variety, 
and in all instances Boone County White, one of the varieties tested, 
resiilted best of all. 

In consequence, it was thought well to start Boone County White 
at many places throughout the county. In addition it was determined 
to conduct extensive variety tests with potatoes and to continue the 
other types of previous experiments. About one hundred and forty 
farmers applied for experiments and were supplied with seed obtained 
from the State Experiment Station, which thus materially assisted 
in the work. 

Because of a prize of $50 offered for the best yield of an acre of 
corn raised by a boy under eighteen, there were ninety-six boys who 
applied for entrance to the contest, and these were each supplied with 
enough first quality Boone County White seed produced by the school 
to plant their acre. About one hundred other boys, who were unable 
to secure a whole acre, asked to be allowed to raise corn and become 



50 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

members of the Boys' Corn Club which the school now formed. They 
will exhibit the best ten ears at the Fall Corn Congress. In rural 
schools all over the county the boys' corn clubs are formed or forming, 
each having a radius of two miles. These clubs are leagued together 
in a county association, with its headquarters at the Agricultural 
High School. During the second summer the principal again super- 
vised all the experimental acres of corn, numbering in all over two 
hundred. 

The school test seeds and milk for farmers. During the early 
spring months many samples of clover seed were submitted for a 
decision of the weed seeds present and of the germinative ability of 
the sample. Throughout the entire year milk and cream are tested 
for the butter-fat content. As many farmers in the neighborhood 
sell their product by the amount of butter fat contained, it is highly 
desirable that they have occasionally an authoritative test from a 
disinterested source with which to compare the tests made by the 
dealer. The school furnishes the test. 

With the activities throughout the neighborhood emanating from 
the new school, it was but natural that there should be a renewed 
activity along lines of religious organizations. A long disused chapel 
was opened, a committee of ten young men was appointed by the 
principal, and regular Sunday night meetings for young people were 
held. The people looked naturally to the school to form the organiza- 
tion, supply the enthusiasm and lead in the work. About one hun- 
dred young people attended the meetings, which were undenomina- 
tional in character and marked by their enthusiasm. 

The community work of the school has not proved of unusual 
difficulty, nor has it disclosed obstacles which make it prohibitive for 
any school anywhere. On the contrary, the work has proved easier 
than seemed possible and more successful than appeared probable. 
Many of the dilemmas conjured up by pessimistic advisers never 
materialized. From this experience it seems certain that every 
agricultural high school in the county — even those like this with a 
small faculty, small funds and small buildings — can make a success 
of community work. 

Thus, when developed to its full extent, the agricultural high school 
is more than a mere institution for the instruction of children. It is 
an educational force for the whole family, and a social, cultural and 
ethical center for the entire community. The expansion of the coun- 
try high school into an agricultural high school is more than the addi- 
tion of subjects to the curriculum and a change in name. It is an 
entire change in the point of view. Educators are beginning to see 
that ultimately one of the greatest fields of work of the agricultural 
high schools may be with that portion of the community which does 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 51 

not usually attend school at all and for which the school funds are not 
usually appropriated. It is by its work with the community at large — 
with the men and women on the farms — that the agricultural high 
school may find its strongest claim on popular attention and its greatest 
field for vital service. 

B. H. Crocheron, Principal of the Agricultural High School of Baltimore County, 
Maryland. Revised and enlarged by the author from an article first published in 
the Tenth Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education. 

PROBLEMS FOR STUDY AND DISCUSSION 

1. To what extent does the agricultural high school offer a solu- 
tion to the problem of adapting rural education to rural life ? 

2. Advantages of work of such a school over that carried on merely 
through small isolated country schools. 

3. Advantages and disadvantages of the consolidation of country 
schools. 

4. What is to be said against having the consolidated school in 
a village or town ? 

5. Character of the consolidation efifected in Ohio, Indiana, 
Nebraska, Ilhnois, etc. ? Cf. Bulletin No. 332 of the U. S. Dept. of 
Agriculture. 

6. The history and work of the John Swaney School of MacNabb, 
Illinois. 

7. The Rural School Improvement League of Maine, aims and 
practical work. Reports of State Dept. of Education. 

8. The work of boys' and girls' agricultural and home improve- 
ment clubs. Howe, F. W., "Rural school extension through boys' 
and girls' agricultural clubs," Tenth Yearbook of the N. S. S. E., Pt. II : 
20 ; Bulletins issued by Dept. of Public Instruction of Nebraska. 

9. " How the rural schools may promote better housekeeping," 
Bishop, E. C, N. S. S. E., Pt. II : 34. 

10. "The rural school and art," Kern, O. J., N. S. S. E., Pt. II : 44. 

11. "Recreation as an aspect of the rural life problem," Scudder, 
M. F., N. S. S. £., Pt. II : 53. 

12. "Getting the people together in the one-room district school," 
N.S.S.E.,Vt.ll:iT. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY ON RURAL EDUCATION AND RURAL LIFE 

AcKERMAN, J. H. "The problem of the rural school," Lewis and 
Clark Educational Congress, p. 77. 

Bailey, L. H. Cyclopedia of Agriculture, Vol. IV. Various articles 
dealing with betterment of rural social life, e.g. traveling libraries, 



52 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

pictures, leagues for rural progress, fairs, chautauquas and clubs, 
the school problem, etc. 

Bishop, E. C. "Nebraska boys' and girls' associations," Nebraska 
University Bulletins, Series XII, Nos. ii and 12. 

BuTTERFiELD, K. L. Chapters in Rural Progress. Chicago, 1907. 
A clear, practical discussion of the problem and steps toward its 
solution. Extracts reprinted in this section. 

Crosby, D. J. "Boys' agricultural clubs," U. S. Department of 
Agriculture, Yearbook for 1904, 489-496. 

. "Progress in agricultural education, 1909." Reprint from 

Annual Report of the Office of Experiment Stations (1909), 251-325. 

Davenport, E. Education for Efficiency, Chapters VII, X (1909). 

Davis, B. M. "Agricultural education: Various agencies contrib- 
uting to its recent development." El. S. T. A series of fourteen 
articles beginning with Vol. X, No. 3 (1909). 

Elliott, E. C. " Some problems of the rural school situation," ^^/aw^^'c 
School Journal. A series of articles beginning with Vol. IV, 
No. 6 (1909). 

FoGHT, H. W. The American Rural School. New York, 1910. 
Especially Chapters X, XI. History, social importance and 
methods of agricultural education : a bibliography. 

Grice, Mary V. Home and School, pp. 48-60. Gives plans for 
organizing home and school associations in the country. 

Hayes, W. M. "F:ducation for country life," U. S. Dept. of Agri- 
culture, Office of Experiment Stations, Circular No. 84, 1909. 

Hewitt, W. C. "An ideal district school," Western Journal of Edu- 
cation, 1 : 159-160. With gymnasium and workshop. 

Hiatt, Edward. Opportunity for the California High School: In- 
dustrial and Agricultural Education, California State Department 
of Education, Special Bulletin (July, 1910). 

Hill, L. B. "A rural high school," S. Rev., 18: 264. April, 1910. 
In Tyler County, West Virginia (of 300 sq. mi. and 18,000 peo- 
ple. School established 1908. Last year's enrollment 69). Offers 
Industrial and College Prep. Course. The initiative to its es- 
tablishment came from the people. Successful. 

HocKENBERY, J. C. "Economicand social conditions of the present- 
day rural communities," Rural School in the United States, pp. 8- 
17, 1908. 

Howe, F. W. "Boys' and girls' clubs," Farmer's Bulletin, No. 385 
(1910). 



THE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCHOOL 53 

Jewell, James R. "Agricultural education, including nature study 
and school gardens," U. S. Bureau of Education, Bulletin 
No. 2 (1907, revised 1909), 148. 

JoYNER, J. J. "The adjustment of the rural school to the conditions 
of rural life as observed in the rural schools of Page County, Iowa," 
Conference for Education in the South, Proceedings (1910), 69-76. 

Kern, O. J. Among Country Schools. Boston. 1906. 

Knapp, Seaman A. "What can the teacher do for the improve- 
ment of rural conditions?" North Carolina Teachers' Assembly, 
Proceedings and Addresses (igog) , 1 16-130. (Raleigh, N.C.) 

Knorr. "Consolidated rural schools," Bulletin No. 232, U.S. 

Department of Agriculture, Office of Experiment Stations. Most 

complete account of the movement by states ; contains valuable 

tables, figures and illustrations. 
National Society for the Study of Education, "The rural school as a 

community center," Tenth Yearbook, Pt. II. 
Plunkett, Sir Horace. The Rural Life Problem in the United States. 

An acute and suggestive analysis of the situation. 

Ross, Edward A. "The pull of the city upon the country," 

Social Psychology, p. 181. 
ScuDDER, Myron T. " The Field Day and the Play Picnic for Country 

Schools," Publications of Playground Association of America. 

SouLE, A. M. "Work of the agricultural school in the scheme of 
state education," S. Ed. Rev., Vol. V (1908), 176-187. 

Stern, R. B. Neighborhood Entertainments. New York, 191 1. Valu- 
able suggestions for developing social life in the country. 

True, A. C. "Some problems of the rural common school," Year- 
book of the Department of Agriculture, for 1901, p. 133. 

, AND Crosby, D. J. "The American system of agricultural 

education," U. S. Depart, of Agriculture, Office of Experiment 
Stations, Circular No. 8j (1909). 

Various Authors, "The life of the farmer from different points of 
view," Outlook, 91 : 823-834. The lure of the city : Country 
teacher not suited to the needs of the country ; discontent de- 
veloped in country boys and girls by attending town high schools ; 
social interests lacking ; inconveniences of the farm home. 

Wilson, H. L. "Some economic and social aspects of rural school 
problems," Am. Ed., 10 : 439-446, 1907. The depletion of rural 
population to be checked by better country schools, training for 
farm, and filHng social needs of rural population. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE SOCIAL RELATIONS OF HOME AND SCHOOL 

Introduction: Home and School 

The efficiency of the school as a social agency in the larger sense 
depends in a great degree upon the closeness of its contact and cooper- 
ation with the home. Historically there are the best of reasons for 
an intimate relationship. The primitive home had a large share in 
the education of the child. If the complex and insistent economic 
needs of the modern household have forced it to giv-e up some of its 
educational functions, it should not be the less interested in the work 
of those to whom these functions have been delegated. Even though 
taken from the home, the successful education of the child physically, 
intellectually and morally depends upon the home's sympathy and 
support. The tendency of the school to lose touch with the home, its 
interests and its point of view, is simply another aspect of the tendency 
noted in an earlier chapter: namely, that of all institutions to acquire 
an inertia and an irresponsiveness to the general social body which 
they exist to serve. 

Thus the home and the school have often drifted far apart. The 
former, relieved of the routine of instruction, assumes that the school 
is doing its duty, and while acutely interested in the outcome, often 
becomes indifferent to the detailed problems and methods of the school. 
Sometimes the home even imagines its interests are antagonistic to 
the ideals of the school, and hostility latent or active develops. Lack 
of interest and of understanding — not to speak of hostility — can- 
not but seriously interfere with the efficiency of instruction. 

In the pioneer days of our country the teacher was much more one 
of the people than he is to-day. He lived among them, often boarding 
for a time in each family. From many different points of view, he 

54 



THE SOCIAL RELATIONS OF HOME AND SCHOOL 55 

was an important factor in the life of the community. The teacher 
of to-day, especially in the city, has little opportunity to acquire this 
intimate knowledge of the homes of his pupils. Even in the smaller 
communities, where he should know the people well, he is often never 
received into the parents' homes. 

The task of bringing the home and the school together into some 
sort of active cooperative relationship, or at least developing a mutual 
understanding between them, is one of the problems of the larger view 
of education current to-day. It is recognized that the agencies of 
public education may properly extend their work of instruction to 
the adult members of the commimity. The bringing of parent and 
school together is a part of this work of school extension. It is socially 
important, not merely because it is enlightening to the parent, but be- 
cause it makes directly for greater efficiency within the school itself. 
It is socially important for the home and school to come together, not 
merely because it may be enlightening to the parent, but also because 
it may broaden the teacher's point of view. " The teacher very much 
needs the stimulus and the enlightenment that comes from a compre- 
hensive knowledge of the home life of his pupils. It is evident, also, 
that the teacher's restricted life and petty cares tend to narrow 
his vision and to inhibit his imagination. His attention is so focused 
that he often fails to grasp the larger life of the community in which 
he lives and which the school is organized to serve." ^ The school 
can scarcely be of great social service unless the teachers study the 
life of the community, mingle freely with the people, and by sympa- 
thetic contact with parents and homes learn something of the conditions 
imder which school children are reared and something of the training 
they require for the life they will have to lead. 

On the other hand, a democratic community needs to have its imagi- 
nation quickened as to the needs of the school. Only thus can needed 
equipment be readily secured and the highest standard in the teaching 
force be maintained. An educated public sentiment is a support to a 
good school board and a check to an inefficient one. 

These are various ways of bringing to pass a proper cooperation 
of home and school. First of all, there are the informal visits of par- 
ents to the school, either to see the work of the classes or to consult 
1 E. J. Goodwin, "School and Home," School Review, 16: 320. 



56 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

with principal or superintendent. " The principal of the school has 
in his own hands the most simple and direct means of bringing the 
school and home into mutually helpful relations. He should have 
capacity for genuine friendships, and should seek thereby so to com- 
mand the acquaintance and confidence of the community that visits 
of parents to the school may be made freely and frequently. Such 
visits are facilitated by invitations to inspect the classroom work on 
designated days, to be present at public exercises in the school gym- 
nasium, to attend informal lantern-slide lectures given by a teacher 
upon some interesting phase of school instruction, to witness school 
debates, literary exercises and graduation ceremonies in which the 
speakers should be students of the school. 

" Exhibits of school work yield unbounded delights to children, and 
no less pleasure to parents. They often unlock the door that bars 
the parent from entrance into his child's school life, which is so unlike 
that of the home and so apart from it that the child otherwise fails 
to get the parental encouragement and sympathetic guidance which 
at times he sorely needs." ^ 

In some places provision is made for a " parents' night," it being 
easier for both fathers and mothers to come and inspect the work of 
the school in the evening than during the day. At such a time the 
regular work of the school is carried on, and afterwards simple refresh- 
ments are served. The children are then dismissed, and a brief confer- 
ence of parents and teachers is held. For various reasons this plan 
is suited to the grammar and secondary school grades, rather than to 
those of the elementary period. In the George Dixon Secondary 
School of Birmingham, England, it has been a regular feature for a 
number of years. " The experience of every member of the staff shows 
emphatically that the benefit resulting from ' Parents' Nights ' has 
been much greater than was ever expected." This school sends out 
invitations to the parents once or twice a year, and the response has 
always been excellent.^ 

" But the most effective and permanent means of promoting close 
relationship and sympathy between the school and the home are, 

* E. J. Goodwin, " School and Home," School Review, i6 : 327-328. 
2W. S. Walton, "Parent and Schoolmaster in Education," Westminster Review, April, 
1911, pp. 379-389. 



THE SOCIAL RELATIONS OF HOME AND SCHOOL 57 

doubtless, voluntary associations of parents which provide for an in- 
ductive study of local conditions and for concerted action. These 
associations in the congested districts of our large cities are multiply- 
ing rapidly and seem to be the outgrowth of an educational impulse 
not only to assist the work of the school, but to supplement it by mani- 
festing an active interest in the children that come from homes of 
ignorance and poverty. Such organizations are doing a unique work 
in developing among parents a feeling of responsibility to cooperate 
with the school in the education of their children, and especially in 
disclosing the shortcomings of the school." ^ 

The need for these associations of parents and teachers is as great 
in the smaller towns and even in the rural districts. As Garber says,^ 
" Probably the most discouraging thing connected with the whole 
rural school problem is the indifference of the home. The new in- 
terest in agriculture is helping in a way. ... It is quite clear that 
no teacher or teachers can alone make a good school. The interests 
of the child demand the interest of the home. For, after all, the child 
finds its most impelling forces in the place and in the persons where 
its earliest instincts are most firmly embedded. And father's or mother's 
word, or evidence of their approval or disapproval, can make or mar 
much that is done in the school." 

Two types of meetings should be provided for by the parent-teacher 
associations, one in which all the parents and teachers of a school come 
together " for a social time and to hear and discuss a paper on some 
subject of mutual interest," and another, in which each grade teacher 
meets the mothers of her particular group of children. One practical 
worker regards this individual grade meeting as " the very founda- 
tion of a successful parents' association, for it is here that we work out 
our ideals and accomplish that intimate intercourse between mother, 
teacher and child which is so vital to the work." ^ It is on the basis 
of the interest aroused in these grade meetings that the father's sym- 
pathies are enlisted and both parents attend the larger evening meet- 
ings of the entire association. 

" Some teachers and school officials seem to be apprehensive lest 
these organizations may assume an unwarranted and meddlesome con- 

1 Goodwin, op. cil., p. 328. * A nnals of Educational Progress in igio, p. 228. 

' Mrs. Floyd Frazier, School Review, 16 : 82, 



58 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

trol over the organization and work of the school, but this is hardly 
to be feared for the reason that cooperation is their avowed purpose, 
and because the public opinion of a community will not justify a local 
association in a direct and radical interference with the established 
procedure of a public school. 

" Associations of parents have already demonstrated their service- 
ableness within the field of school education. What they may do 
hereafter to weld together our heterogeneous population, to carry 
help and healing to the homes of the poor and unfortunate, and to 
make the school plant accessible for evening instruction to parents in 
the domestic arts and for social and literary entertainment to children 
and their parents, are questions that must be answered in the light of 
experiment and experience. That great good is in the way of ac- 
complishment, there can be no doubt." ^ 

Parents' Associations and the Public Schools 

The formation of parents' associations connected with the schools 
is a part of the wider movement for the social utilization of 
the school plant. . . . This movement began with the kinder- 
garten, which established the custom of holding mothers' meetings. 
In these meetings, the mothers and kindergartner talk over the chil- 
dren and discuss the functions of the home as related to those of the 
school. In many places, this mutual cooperation between kinder- 
gartner and mother has grown, until regularly organized mothers' 
clubs have been formed. These have much advantage over the 
mothers' meetings; for permanent organization brings with it 
permanent interest. Mothers' meetings and mothers' clubs, how- 
ever, have not been limited to the kindergarten ; they are also found 
in connection with the higher grades of the school. Moreover, the 
idea has grown until the mothers' clubs have developed into parents' 
meetings and parents' clubs or parents' associations, as they are 
called. Fathers, as well as mothers, have become interested in the 
work. These associations are not compulsory, but have generally 
been formed at the pleasure of the school principal, either by his own 
personal efforts or at the suggestion of parents or citizens. 

Several women's organizations have become interested in this move- 
ment, and have been of material assistance to teachers and parents in 
getting them together. Probably the body which has accomplished the 
most in this direction is the National Congress of Mothers, which has 

1 Goodwin, op. cii., p. 329. 



THE SOCIAL RELATIONS OF HOME AND SCHOOL 59 

for one of its chief aims the formation of mothers' clubs and parent- 
teacher associations. It has a state organizer in nearly every state 
in the Union, and many hundreds of clubs formed under its direction 
are doing most commendable work. Their object is, according to 
Article II of the constitution : "To bring into closer relation the home 
and the school ; that parents and teachers may intelligently cooper- 
ate in the education of the child." Each association joins the Na- 
tional Congress of Mothers, which provides helpful literature on sub- 
jects of interest to parents and teachers, and also offers suggestive 
programs and speakers. . . . 

Work of the Boston Associations. The parent-teacher associations, 
which perhaps come nearer than any others to the general idea of 
bringing school and community together, are those in Boston, which 
were established by the conference committee on moral education. 
The first was organized in May, 1905. . . . 

" Its aims," says the annual report, " are threefold : to bring the 
home and the school together; to instruct the parents concerning 
the care of their children; and to promote the social interests of the 
neighborhood. To accomplish the first object, efforts have been 
made to acquaint the parent with the teacher's work in developing 
the child intellectually, physically and morally; and, on the other 
hand, to explain to the teacher the problems with which the parent 
has to deal. This has been brought about through talks, given by 
teachers and parents at the monthly meetings of the association, and 
by means of teas, held after every meeting where parents and teachers 
come together in a social way for interchange of thoughts. 

These talks, which the report goes on to describe, seem remarkably 
comprehensive and pointed. Among those given by the teachers 
were brief explanations of the course of study and the aims of the 
teacher in physical and moral training, with particular emphasis on 
the necessity of cooperation between teachers and parents. Other 
topics were: Specific Instances in which the Parent can Cooperate 
with the Teacher; Cleanliness in the Schoolroom; How Children 
Spend their Evenings, and Cigarette Smoking among School 
Children. 

Among the subjects presented by the parents, were: Fighting 
among boys, gambling, cigarette smoking, novel reading, theater 
going, spending pennies for cheap candy, playing in the street, etc. 
In consequence of some of these talks, a committee was appointed 
to find out what evening opportunities for amusement or education 
in the neighborhood were open to boys and girls. At a subsequent 
meeting this committee reported and recommended that the teachers 
inform their pupils of the places where they might go for healthful 
amusement and instruction. 



6o SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

At another meeting, one of the mothers spoke of the filthy condition 
of some of the streets, yards and vacant lots in the neighborhood, 
declaring " that dirt and disorder lower the morals of the children," 
and a committee was subsequently appointed to make an investiga- 
tion, and to recommend improvements. " Through these talks," 
the report says, " the parents have become more familiar with the 
teacher's problems, and the teacher has learned to interpret the child 
from the parent's point of view." 

Instructing the fathers and mothers. Not only, however, have these 
meetings brought the home and school into happy cooperation, they 
have also fulfilled the second object of this association; namely, 
" to instruct the parents concerning the care of their children." The 
main address at each meeting was devoted to such instruction. Dur- 
ing the year, there were five lectures on the physical development of 
the child and two on the moral welfare. Three of these on the physi- 
cal development were given by the medical inspector of the district. 
These lectures have proved an efficient agency for giving medical in- 
struction to the parents. That they have helped the medical inspector 
in the performance of his duties, thereby making inspection a live 
issue in this community, is proved by personal testimony. . . . 

The enthusiasm in all these associations is gratifying. " Why 
haven't we had them before? " is constantly being asked. The 
.mothers are glad to assume much of the responsibility in carrying on 
the work, and take a great deal of pride in making the teas pretty and 
attractive. Too much cannot be said of the value of the teas. Here, 
everybody is expected to speak to everybody else, and over a cup of 
tea, which seems to have a magic charm for producing cordiality and 
geniality, the teachers and parents mingle; grievances vanish, and 
many a hard boy or girl has been converted into a helpful, conscien- 
tious pupil as a result of a friendly chat at one of these teas. . . . 

The whole result of this work in Boston seems to demonstrate con- 
clusively that these organizations supply a real need in the educational 
system. What these associations have done in their own localities 
indicates what similar organizations may do for the other school dis- 
tricts. Being a part of the general movement for the social utiliza- 
tion of the schools, and having a definite, distinct function to perform 
in this movement, they should not spring up by chance ; nor should 
their activities be left to the accidental enthusiasm of a teacher or 
parent. The underlying principles of every parent-teacher associa- 
tion should be alike ; they should aim to elevate the intellectual and 
social life of the community. It is evident, of course, that the specific 
problems of each association will be peculiar to the district in which 
it has been formed. What would elevate one neighborhood might 
have no application whatever to another. It suggests itself, therefore, 



THE SOCIAL RELATIONS OF HOME AND SCHOOL 6i 

that there should be some recognized authority in every city to organize 
and guide parent-teacher associations. Logically, every school district 
of the city should be represented in such an organization, which shall 
deal with the intellectual and social problems peculiar to the district. 
Since these associations are so intimately connected with the school 
system, they would most naturally come under the direction of the 
school committee, which is the guiding force in all the other forms of 
educational endeavor. The school committee should use its good 
offices to create among the parents and teachers of a school district a 
sentiment in favor of establishing a forum for the exchange of ideas 
on the intellectual and social development of the district. And further 
they should provide the facilities for the consummation of the plan. 
Schoolhouses should be placed at the disposal of parent-teacher as- 
sociations ; lecture service should be provided out of the school funds, 
and such printed matter as constitution and by-laws, invitations to 
meetings and annual reports should be issued by the school committee 
at the request of the association. There are many other ways in 
which a school committee can further such organizations — by 
furnishing the facilities for the tea, or the paraphernalia for an enter- 
tainment — without assuming a controlling attitude. The parent- 
teacher association would become a preeminently democratic insti- 
tution — an organizer of enlightened public opinion on all educational 
matters. The combined force of all these associations in a city would 
constitute an educational support, invaluable to a body chosen by 
the people to watch over and direct their educational interests. 

Fannie Fem Andrews, in Charities and the Commons, 17 : 335, 1906-1Q07. Courtesy 
Charities Publication Committee. 

PROBLEMS FOR FURTHER DISCUSSION AND STUDY 

1. State the various influences in different communities which 
have tended to keep the school and the home apart. 

2. State the possible objections to parent-teacher associations. 

3. Summarize carefully the advantages that have actually been 
noted. To what extent do you think they might be realized every- 
where ? 

4. Write out a brief description of a community known to you, 
showing the extent to which it might be benefited by a closer associa- 
tion of school and home. Specify the means you might properly use 
to get an association organized, the objections you would probably 
meet with, and how you would seek to overcome them. 

5. From your various readings and observations, make a list of 
subjects which might properly be discussed in an association of parents 
and teachers. 



62 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

6. Examine the available reports of superintendents and boards 
of education of large cities to determine the extent to which the as- 
sociations of parents and teachers are currently developed. Note 
carefully variations in methods and aims. 

7. Look up the work in Texas, in which state the idea of home and 
school associations is said to have been developed further than any- 
where else. 

8. Describe the "Parents' Night" of the George Dixon School, 
Birmingham, England. (See Westminster Review, April, 191 1, p. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY ON HOME AND SCHOOL 

Andrews, Fannie F. "Parents' associations and the pubhc schools," 
Charities, 17 : 335-343, 1907. Extracts from, reprinted in this 
section. 

Bender, Ida C. "Relation of citizen and teacher," N. E. A., 1897, 
p. 248. Schools once more influential in community. Lower 
standards of public duty have resulted. Need of cooperation of 
school and citizen in social problems. 

Butler, Nathaniel, and others. "Parents' associations," S. Rev., 
16 : 78-88, 1908. A good discussion of the need and of the means 
of meeting it. 

Cassidy, M. a. "School and home training," Ed., 19:535. Need 
of more direct sympathetic relation of teacher and mother. 

Dewey, J. School and Society, various portions of. Chicago, 1899. 

Eggleston, Edward. The Hoosier Schoolmaster, The Hoosier School- 
hoy. Give good portrayals of the place of the teacher in the 
pioneer community. 

Findlay, J. J. "Corporate life of the school," S. Rev., 16:605. 
Discusses the English parent and the school. 

. "The parent and the school," International Journal of Ethics, 

18:92, 1908. 
Career, J. P. Annals of Educational Progress during the Year 1910, 

pp. 227-229. A brief statement of the importance of a closer 

affiliation of home and school. 

Goodwin, E. J. "School and home," S. Rev., 16 : 320-329. A good 

article. 
Grice, Mary V. Home and School. Deals with practical problems 

of organization of home and school associations. 

Halsey, R. H. "School and community," iV. E. A., 1897, 257. 
Importance of social and instructional meetings for the com- 



THE SOCIAL RELATIONS OF HOME AND SCHOOL 63 

munity; school should be open to inspection and criticism of 
parents; teacher must be clearly a citizen. 

Hamilton, C. "Relation of the home and the school," El. S. T., 
7 : 131-140. The need of school life finding an outlet in the home. 
How to eliminate the obstacles to home and school associations. 
Ways home may help the school. 

Hanus, Paul. "School and home," in his Modern School. Co- 
operation of home, community and school necessary in so im- 
portant an undertaking as education of child. 

Harding, Chas. F. "The Parents' Association of the School of Edu- 
cation," S. Rev., 18: 153. States briefly the work of this associa- 
tion. 

Hefferan, Helen M. "Parents' and teachers' organizations," 
El. S. T., 1904-1905, p. 241. Describes things done in Chicago 
in parents' clubs ; method of procedure, etc. 

Home and School Associations, in " Educational progress for 1908," 
S. Rev., 17 : 300-301. Methods of New York. Widespread char- 
acter of movement. 

Jackman, Mrs. W. "Work of the home committee of the parents' 
association," El. S. T., 1904-1905, p. 249. Describes work of 
grade meetings for mothers in University of Chicago Elementary 
School. 

McGrady, Louisa. "The parent the background of the school," 
Outlook, 89 : 747. A general statement of what the home may 
contribute to education of child. Companionship of child and 
parent. 

Maxwell, W. H. "Parents' meetings." Report of, to Board of 
Education of New York City, 1906. OutHnes nature of work 
in that city and gives summary of meetings held. 

Meetings of the Parents' Association of the University of Chicago 
Elementary School, El. S. T., 5: 180, 244, 299, 529; 6: 55, 167, 
361, 420. Give progress of meetings, and practical work of. 

Monroe, Paul. Cyclopedia of Education; article, "Boarding around." 
The teacher of the pioneer community. 

Palmer, F. N. "The home: how it may help the teacher," Ed., 
21 : 292-306. Need of parent being interested in pupil's school 
activities. 

Scott, Colin. Social Education, Chapter I. Boston, 1908. 

Sharpless, Isaac. "The Quaker boy at school," Ind., 65:543. 



64 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Tucker, Milo. "A school building up a community," World's 
Work, 15 : 10153. An account of actual work of one school in a 
dilapidated neighborhood. 

Walton, W. S. "Parent and schoolmaster in education," West- 
minster Review, April, 191 1, p. 379. Describes the social need 
and work of "Parents' Night" in the George Dixon School, Bir- 
mingham. 

Various city school reports give brief statements of what is being 
done in particular localities. See also the various reports of the 
National Congress of Mothers and the reports of the same con- 
gresses of the different states. 



CHAPTER V 

THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE 
COMMUNITY 

The School as a Social Center 

In this paper I shall confine myself to the philosophy of the school 
as a social center. But at the same time I do not feel that the philo- 
sophical aspect of the matter is the urgent or important one. The 
pressing thing, the significant thing, is really to make the school a 
social center ; that is, a matter of practice, not of theory. Just what 
to do in order to make the schoolhouse a center of full and adequate 
social service, to bring it completely into the current of social life, — 
such are the matters I am sure which really deserve the attention of 
the public and that occupy your own minds. 

It is possible, however, and conceivably useful to ask ourselves: 
What is the meaning of the popular demand in this direction ? Why 
should the community in general, and those particularly interested in 
education in especial, be so unusually sensitive at just this period of 
this need ? Why should the lack be more felt now than a generation 
ago ? What forces are stirring that awaken such speedy and favorable 
response to the notion that the school as a place of , instruction for 
children is not performing its full function — that it needs also to 
operate as a center of life for all ages and classes ? 

A brief historic retrospect will put before us the background of the 
present situation. The function of education, since anything which 
might pass by that name was found among savage tribes, has been 
social. The particular organ or structure, however, through which 
this aim was observed, and the nature of its adjustment to other social 
institutions, has varied according to the peculiar condition of the given 
time. The general principle of evolution, development from the 
undifferentiated toward the formation of distinct organs on the princi- 
ple of division of labor, stands out clearly in a survey of educational 
history. At the outset there was no school as a separate institution. 
The educative processes were carried on in the ordinary play of family 
and community life. As the ends to be reached by education became 
more numerous and remote, and the means employed more special- 
ized, it was necessary, however, for society to develop a distinct 
institution. Only in this way could the special need be adequately 
attended to. In this way developed the schools carried on by great 
philosophical organizations of antiquity — the Platonic, Stoic, Epi- 

F 6s 



66 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

curean, etc. — then came schools as a phase of the work of the 
church. Finally, with the increasing separation of church and 
state, the latter asserted itself as the proper founder and sup- 
porter of educational institutions; and the modern type of public, 
or at least quasi-public, school developed. There are many who re- 
gard the transfer of this educational function from the church to the 
state as more than a matter for regret — they conceive of it as a move 
which, if persisted in, will result disastrously to the best and perma- 
nent interests of mankind. But I take it we are not called upon to- 
day to reckon with this class, large and important as it may be. I 
assume that practically all here are believers in the principle of state 
education — even if we should not find it entirely easy to justify our 
faith on logical or philosophical grounds. The reason for referring 
to this claiming by the state of the education function is to indicate 
that it was in continuance of the policy of specialization or division 
of labor. 

With the development of the state has come a certain distinction 
between state and society. As I use these terms, I mean by " State " 
the organization of the resources of community life through govern- 
mental machinery of legislation and administration. I mean by " So- 
ciety " the less definite and freer play of the forces of the community 
which goes on in the daily intercourse and contact of men in an endless 
variety of ways that have nothing to do with politics or government 
or the state in any institutional sense. Now, the control of education 
by the state inevitably carried with it a certain segregation of the 
machinery of both school administration and instruction from the 
freer, more varied and more flexible modes of social intercourse. 
So true is this that for a long time the school was occupied exclusively 
with but one function, the purveying of intellectual material to a 
certain number of selected minds. Even when the democratic im- 
pulse broke into the isolated department of the school, it did not effect 
a complete reconstruction, but only the addition of another element. 
This was preparation for citizenship. The meaning of this phrase, 
" preparation for citizenship," shows precisely what I have in mind by 
the difference between the school as an isolated thing, related to the 
state alone, and the school as a thoroughly socialized affair in contact 
at all points with the flow of community life. Citizenship, to most 
minds, means a distinctly political thing. It is defined in terms of 
relation to the government, not to society in its broader aspects. 
To be able to vote intelligently, to take such share as might be m the 
conduct of public legislation and administration, — that has been the 
significance of the term. 

Now our community life has suddenly awakened ; and in awaken- 
ing it has found that governmental institutions and affairs represent 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 67 

only a small part of the important purposes and difficult problems of 
life; and that even that fraction cannot be dealt with adequately 
except in the light of a wide range of domestic, economic and scientific 
considerations quite excluded from the conception of the state, of 
citizenship. We find that our political problems involve race ques- 
tions, questions of the assimilation of diverse types of language and 
custom ; we find that most serious political questions grow out of un- 
derlying industrial and commercial changes and adjustments; we 
find that most of our pressing political problems cannot be solved by 
special measures of legislation or executive activity, but only by the 
promotion of common sympathies and a common understanding. 
We find, moreover, that the solution of the difficulties must go back 
to a more adequate scientific comprehension of the actual facts and 
relations involved. The isolation between state and society, between 
the government and the institutions of family, business life, etc., 
is breaking down. We realize the thin artificial character of the 
separation. We begin to see that we are dealing with the complicated 
interaction of varied and vital forces, only a few of which can be 
pigeonholed as governmental. The content of the term " citizenship " 
is broadening ; it is coming to mean all the relationships of all sorts 
that are involved in membership in a community. 

This of itself would tend to develop a sense of something absent in 
the existing type of education, something defective in the service 
rendered by the school. Change the image of what constitutes 
citizenship, and you change the image of what is the purpose of the 
school. Change this, and you change the picture of what the school 
should be doing and of how it should be doing it. The feeling that 
the school is not doing all that it should do in simply giving instruction 
during the day to a certain number of children of different ages, the 
demand that it shall assume a wider scope of activities having an 
educative effect upon the adult members of the community, had its 
basis just here: We are feeling everywhere the organic unity of the 
different modes of social life, and consequently demand that the 
school shall be related more widely, shall receive from more quarters, 
and shall give in more directions. 

As I have already intimated, the older idea of the school was that 
its primary concern was with the inculcation of certain facts and 
truths from the intellectual point of view, and the acquisition of cer- 
tain forms of skill. When the school became public or common, 
this notion was broadened to include whatever would make the 
citizen a more capable and righteous voter and legislator ; but it was 
still thought that this end would be reached along the line of in- 
tellectual instruction. To teach children the Constitution of the 
United States, the nature and working of various parts of gov- 



68 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

ernmental machinery, from the nation through the state and county 
down to the township and the school district, to teach such things 
was thought to prepare the pupil for citizenship. And so some 
fifteen or twenty years ago, when the feeling arose that the schools 
were not doing all that they should be doing for our life as a whole, 
this consciousness expressed itself in a demand for a more thorough 
and extensive teaching of civics. To my mind the demand for the 
school as a social center bears the same ratio to the situation which 
confronts us to-day, as the movement for civics bore to the conditions 
of half a generation ago. We have awakened to deeper aspects of 
the question ; Ave have seen that the machinery of governmental life 
is after all but a machinery, and depends for its rightness and effi- 
ciency upon underlying social and industrial causes. We have lost 
a good deal of our faith in the efficacy of purely intellectual instruction. 

Some four specific developments may be mentioned as having a 
bearing upon the question of the school as a social center. . The first 
of these is the much increased efficiency and ease of all the agencies 
that have to do with bringing people into contact with one another. 
Recent inventions have so multiplied and cheapened the means of 
transportation, and the circulation of ideas and news through books, 
magazines and papers, that it is no longer physically possible for one 
nationality, race, class or sect to be kept apart from others, imper- 
vious to their wishes and beliefs. Cheap and rapid long-distance 
transportation has made America a meeting place for all the peoples 
and tongues of the world. The centralization of industry has forced 
members of classes into the closest association with, and dependence 
upon, each other. Bigotry, intolerance, or even an unswerving 
faith in the superiority of one's own religious and political creed are 
much shaken when individuals are brought face to face with each other, 
or have the ideas of others continuously and forcibly placed before 
them. The congestion of our city life is only one aspect of the bring- 
ing of people together which modern inventions have induced. 

That many dangers result from sudden dislocations of people from 
the surroundings — physical, industrial and intellectual — to which 
they have become adapted; that great instability may accompany 
this sudden massing of heterogeneous peoples, goes without saying. 
On the other hand, these very agencies present instrumentalities of 
which advantage may be taken. The best as well as the worst of 
modern newspapers is a product. The organized public library with 
its facilities for reaching all classes of people is an effect. The popular 
assembly and lyceum is another. No educational system can be 
regarded as complete until it adapts itself into the various ways in 
which social and intellectual intercourse may be promoted; and em- 
ploys them systematically, not only to counteract dangers which these 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 69 

same agencies are bringing with them, but so as to make them posi- 
tive causes in raising the whole level of life. 

Both the demand and the opportunity are increased in our large 
cities by the commingling of classes and races. It is said that one 
ward in the city of Chicago has forty different languages represented 
in it. It is a well-known fact that some of the largest Irish, German 
and Bohemian cities in the world are located in America, not in their 
own countries. The power of the public schools to assimilate different 
races to our institutions, through the education given to the younger 
generation, is doubtless one of the most remarkable exhibitions of 
vitality that the world has ever seen. But, after all, it leaves the older 
generation still untouched ; and the assimilation of the younger can 
hardly be complete or certain as long as the homes of the parents 
remain comparatively unaffected. Indeed, wise observers in both 
New York City and Chicago have recently sounded a note of alarm. 
They have called attention to the fact that in some respects the 
children are too rapidly, I will not say Americanized, but too 
rapidly de-nationalized. They lose the positive and conservative 
value of their own native traditions, their own native music, art 
and literature. They do not get complete initiation into the cus- 
toms of their new country, and so are frequently left floating and 
unstable between the two. They even learn to despise the dress, 
bearing, habits, language and beliefs of their parents — many of 
which have more substance and worth than the superficial putting 
on of the newly adopted habits. If I understand aright, one of the 
chief motives in the development of the new labor museum at Hull 
House has been to show the younger generation something of the 
skill and art and historic meaning in the industrial habits of the 
older generations — modes of spinning, weaving, metal working, 
etc., discarded in this country because there was no place for them in 
our industrial system. Many a child has awakened to an apprecia- 
tion of admirable qualities hitherto unknown in his father or mother 
for whom he had begun to entertain a contempt. Many an asso- 
ciation of local history and past national glory had been awakened 
to quicken and enrich the life of the family. 

In the second place, along with the increasing intercourse and inter- 
action, with all its dangers and opportunities, there has come a re- 
laxation of the bonds of social discipline and control. I suppose none 
of us would be willing to believe that the movement away from dog- 
matism and fixed authority was anything but a movement in the 
right direction. But no one can view the loosening of the power of 
the older religious and social authorities, without deep concern. 
We may feel sure that in time independent judgment, with the in- 
dividual freedom and responsibility that go with it, will more than 



70 



SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 



make good the temporary losses. But meantime there is a temporary 
loss. Parental authority has much less influence in controlling the 
conduct of children. Reverence seems to decay on every side, and 
boisterousness and hoodlumism to increase. Flippancy toward paren- 
tal and other forms of constituted authority waxes, while obedient 
orderliness wanes. The domestic ties themselves, as between hus- 
band and wife as well as in relation to children, lose something of their 
permanence and sanctity. The church, with its supernatural sanctions, 
its means of shaping the daily life of its adherents, finds its grasp slowly 
slipping away from it. We might as well frankly recognize that many 
of the old agencies for moralizing mankind, and of keeping them liv- 
ing decent, respectable and orderly Uves, are losing in eflaciency — par- 
ticularly, those agencies which rested for their force upon custom, 
tradition, and unquestioning acceptance. It is impossible for society 
to remain purely a passive spectator in the midst of such a scene. 
It must search for other agencies with which it may repair the loss, 
and which may produce the results which the former methods are 
failing to secure. Here, too, it is not enough for society to confine 
its work to children. However much they may need the discipli- 
nary training of a widened and enlightened education, the older genera- 
tion needs it also. Besides, time is short — very short for the aver- 
age child in the average city school. The work is hardly more than 
begun there, and unless it is largely to go for naught, the community 
must find methods of supplementing it and carrying it further outside 
the regular school channels. 

In the third place, the intellectual life, facts and truths of knowl- 
edge are much more obviously and intimately connected with all other 
affairs of life than they ever have been at any previous period in the 
history of the world. Hence a purely and exclusively intellectual 
instruction means less than it ever meant before. And, again, the 
daily occupations and ordinary surroundings of life are much more 
in need of interpretation than ever they have been before. We might 
almost say that once there was a time when learning related almost 
wholly to a world outside and beyond that of the daily concerns of 
life itself. To study physics, to learn German, to become acquainted 
with Chinese history, were elegant accomplishments, but more or 
less useless from the standpoint of daily life. In fact, it is just this 
sort of idea which the term " culture" still conveys to many minds. 
When learning was useful, it was only to a comparatively small and par- 
ticularly select class in the community. It was just something that 
the doctor or lawyer or clergyman needed in his particular calling, 
but so far away from and above the mass of mankind that it could 
only awaken their blind and submissive admiration. The tecent 
public lament regarding the degradation of the teacher's calling is, 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 71 

to my mind, just a reminiscence of the time when to know enough 
to be a teacher was something which of itself set off the individual in 
a special class by himself. It fails to take account of the changes 
which have put knowledge in common circulation, and made it possible 
for every one to be a teacher in some respect unto his neighbor. 

Under modern conditions, practically every sphere of learning, 
whether of social or natural science, may impinge at once, and at any 
point, upon the conduct of life. German is not a fact, knowledge of 
which makes a distinction between a man and his fellow, but a 
mode of social and business intercourse. Physics is no longer natural 
philosophy — something concerned with remarkable discoveries about 
important but very remote laws ; it is a set of facts which, through 
the applications of heat and electricity to our ordinary surroundings, 
constantly come home to us. Physiology, bacteriology, anatomy, 
concern our individual health and the sanitation of our cities. Their 
facts are exploited in sensational, if not scientific, ways in the daily 
newspapers. And so we might go through the whole schedule of 
studies, once so foreign and alien, and show how intimately concerned 
they now are with commonplace life. The simple fact is, that we are 
living in an age of applied science. It is impossible to escape the in- 
fluence, direct and indirect, of the applications. 

On the other hand, life is getting so specialized, the divisions of labor 
are carried so far, that nothing explains or interprets itself. The worker 
in a modern factory who is concerned with a fractional piece of a 
complex activity, present to him only in a limited series of acts carried 
on with a distinct portion of a machine, is typical of much in our entire 
social life. The old worker knew something of his process and busi- 
ness as a whole. If he did not come into personal contact with all 
of it, the whole was so small and so close to him that he was acquainted 
with it. He was thus aware of the meaning of the particular part 
of the work which he himself was doing. He saw and felt it as a 
vital part of the whole, and his horizon was extended. The situation 
is now opposite. Most people are doing particular things of whose 
exact reasons and relationships they are only dimly aware. The whole 
is so vast, so complicated, so technical, that it is next to out of the 
question to get any direct acquaintanceship with it. Hence we must 
rely upon instruction ; upon interpretations that come to us through 
conscious channels. One of the great motives for the flourishing of 
some great technical correspondence schools of the present day is 
not only the utilitarian desire to profit by preparation for better posi- 
tions, but an honest eagerness to know something more of the great 
forces which condition the particular work one is doing, and to get an 
insight into those broad relations which are so partially, yet tantaliz- 
ingly, hinted at. The same is true of the growing interest in forms 



72 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

of popular science, which forms a marked portion of the stock in 
trade of some of the best and most successful of our modern monthly 
magazines. This same motive added much to the effectiveness of the 
university extension movement, particularly in England. It creates 
a particular demand for a certain type of popular illustrated lecture. 
Unless the lives of a large part of our wage earners are to be left 
to their own barren meagerness, the community must see to it by 
some organized agency that they are instructed in the scientific 
foundation and social bearings of the things they see about them, and 
of the activities in which they are themselves engaging. 

The fourth point of demand and opportunity is the prolongation, 
under modern conditions, of continuous instruction. We have 
heard much of the significance of prolonged infancy in relation to 
education. It has become almost a part of our pedagogical creed 
that premature engagement in the serious vocations of life is detri- 
mental to full growth. There is a corollary to this proposition which 
has not yet received equal recognition. Only where social occupa- 
tions are well defined, and of a pretty permanent type, can the period 
of instruction be cut short at any particular period. It is commonly 
recognized that a doctor or a lawyer must go on studying all his life, 
if he is to be a successful man in his profession. The reason is ob- 
vious enough. Conditions about him are highly unstable ; new prob- 
lems present themselves ; new facts obtrude. Previous study of 
law, no matter how thorough and accurate the study, did not 
provide for these new situations. Hence the need of continual 
study. There are still portions of country where the lawyer 
practically prepares himself before he enters upon his professional 
career. All he has to do afterward is to perfect himself in certain 
finer points, and get skill in the manipulation of what he already 
knows. But these are the more backward and unprogressive sec- 
tions, where change is gradual and infrequent, and so the individual 
prepared once is prepared always. 

Now, what is true of the lawyer and the doctor in the more pro- 
gressive sections of the country, is true to a certain extent of all sorts 
and degrees of people. Social, economic and intellectual conditions 
are changing at a rate undreamed of in past history. Now, unless 
the agencies of instruction are kept running more or less parallel 
with these changes, a considerable body of men is bound to find it- 
self without the training which will enable it to adapt itself to what 
is going on. It will be left stranded and become a burden for the 
community to carry. Where progress is continuous and certain, 
education must be equally certain and continuous. The youth at 
eighteen may be educated so as to be ready for the conditions which 
will meet him at nineteen ; but he can hardly be prepared for those 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 73 

which are to confront him when he is forty-five. If he is ready for the 
latter when they come, it will be because his own education has been 
keeping pace in the intermediate years. Doubtless conversation, 
social intercourse, observation and reflection upon what one sees 
going on about one, the reading of magazines and books, will do much ; 
they are important, even if unorganized, methods of continuous edu- 
cation. But they can hardly be expected to do all, and hence they 
do not relieve the community from the responsibility of providing, 
through the school as a center, a continuous education for all classes 
of whatever age. 

The fourfold need, and the fourfold opportunity, which I have 
hastily sketched, defines to some extent the work of the school as a 
social center. 

It must provide, at least, part of that training which is necessary 
to keep the individual properly adjusted to a rapidly changing en- 
vironment. It must interpret to him the intellectual and social 
meaning of the work in which he is engaged ; that is, must reveal its 
relations to the life and work of the world. It must make up to him 
in part for the decay of dogmatic and fixed methods of social disci- 
pline. It must supply him compensation for the loss of reverence 
and influence of authority. And, finally, it must provide means for 
bringing people and their ideas and beliefs together, in such ways as 
will lessen friction and instability and introduce deeper sympathy and 
wider understanding. 

In what ways shall the school as a social center perform these vari- 
ous tasks? To answer this question in anything like detail is to pass 
from my allotted sphere of philosophy into that of practical execu- 
tion. But it comes within the scope of a theoretical consideration 
to indicate certain general lines. First, there is mixing people up with 
each other; bringing them together under wholesome influences, 
and under conditions which will promote their getting acquainted 
with the best side of each other. I suppose whenever we are framing 
our ideals of the school as a social center, what we think of is particu- 
larly the better class of social settlements. What we want is to see 
the school, every public school, doing something of the same sort of 
work that is now done by a settlement or two scattered at wide dis- 
tances through the city. And we all know that the work of such an 
institution as Hull House has been primarily, not that of conveying 
intellectual instruction, but of being a social clearing house. It is 
a place where ideas and beliefs may be exchanged, not merely in 
the arena of formal discussion, — for argument alone breeds mis- 
understanding and fixes prejudice, — but in ways where ideas are in- 
carnated in human form and clothed with the winning grace of personal 
life. Classes for study may be nmnerous, but all are regarded as modes 



74 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

of bringing people together, of doing away with barriers of caste, or 
class, or race, or type of experience that keep people from real com- 
munion with each other. 

The function of the school as a social center in promoting social 
meetings for social purposes, suggests at once another function — 
provision and direction of reasonable forms of amusement and rec- 
reation. The social club, the gymnasium, the amateur theatrical 
representation, the concert, the stereopticon lecture, — these are agen- 
cies the force of which social settlements have long known, and which 
are coming into use wherever anything is doing in the way of making 
schools social centers. I sometimes think that recreation is the most 
overlooked and neglected of all ethical forces. Our whole Puritan 
tradition tends to make us slight this side of life, or even condemn 
it. But the demand for recreation, for enjoyment, is one of the 
strongest and most fundamental things in human nature. To pass 
it over is to invite it to find its expression in defective and perverted 
form. The brothel, the saloons, the low dance house, the gambling 
den, the trivial, inconsiderate and demoralizing associations which 
form themselves on every street corner, are the answer of human 
nature to the neglect, on the part of supposed moral leaders, of this 
factor in human nature. I believe that there is no force more likely 
to count in the general reform of social conditions than the practical 
recognition that in recreation there is a positive moral influence which 
it is the duty of the community to take hold of and direct. 

In the third place, there ought to be some provision for a sort of 
continuous social selection of a somewhat specialized type — using 
" specialized," of course, in a relative sense. Our cities carried on 
evening schools long before anything was said or heard of the school 
as a social center. These were intended to give instruction in the 
rudiments to those who had little or no early opportunities. So 
far they were and are good. But what I have in mind is something 
of a more distinctly advanced and selective nature. To refer once 
more to the working model upon which I am pretty continuously 
drawing, in the activities of Hull House we find provision made for 
classes in music, drawing, clay modeling, joinery, metal working, 
and so on. There is no reason why something in the way of scientific 
laboratories should not be provided for those who are particularly 
interested in problems of mechanics or electricity; and so the list 
might be continued. Now the obvious operation of such modes of 
instruction is to pick out and attract to itself those individuals 
who have particular ability in any particular line. There is a 
vast amount of unutilized talent dormant all about us. Many 
an individual has capacity within himself of which he is only dimly 
conscious, because he has never had an opportunity for expressing it. 



\ 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 75 

He is not only losing the satisfaction of employment, but society 
suffers from this wasted capital. The evils of unearned increment 
are as nothing beside those of the undiscovered resource. In time, 
I am confident the community will recognize it as a natural and 
necessary part of its own duty — quite as much as is now giving in- 
struction to little children — to provide such opportunities for adults 
as will enable them to discover and carry to some point of fulfill- 
ment the particular capacities that distinguish them. 

In conclusion, we may say that the conception of the school as a 
social center is born of our entire democratic movement. Every- 
where we see signs of the growing recognition that the community 
owes to each one of its members the fullest opportunity for develop- 
ment. Everywhere we see the growing recognition that the commu- 
nity life is defective and distorted, excepting as it does thus care for 
all its constituent parts. This is no longer viewed as a matter of 
charity, but as a matter of justice — even of something higher 
and better than justice — a necessary phase of developing and grow- 
ing life. Men will long dispute about material socialism, about 
socialism considered as a matter of distribution of the material re- 
sources of the community ; but there is a socialism regarding which 
there can be no such dispute — socialism of the intelligence and of 
the spirit. To extend the range and the fullness of sharing in the 
intellectual and spiritual resources of the community is the very 
meaning of the community. Because the older type of education is 
not fully adequate to this task under changed conditions, we feel its 
lack, and demand that the school shall become a social center. The 
school as a social center means the active and organized promotion of 
this socialism of the intangible things of art, science and other modes 
of social intercourse. 

John Dewey, reprinted from the Report of the National Educational Association, IQ02, 
P- 373- Courtesy of the author. 

Rochester Social Centers and Civic Clubs 

Plan of the Work 

The Social Center movement, being in its nature absolutely demo- 
cratic, has been free to develop in actual realization whatever phases 
the needs, desires and good sense of the community might choose. 
And some of its greatest features, such, for instance, as the independent 
Civic Club development, have been quite spontaneous and not at all 
prearranged. Yet in the great essentials of plan and policy there 
has been no change from the beginning. 

On July 5, 1907, a joint meeting of the Board of Education and 
the School Extension Committee was held. At this meeting the whole 



76 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

matter of the policy of the Social Centers was thoroughly discussed, 
and the plans of the work were definitely laid. In that meeting it 
was decided that the spirit which should be striven for in the Social 
Centers should be the democratic, friendly spirit of broad acquaint- 
anceship, which made " The Little Red Schoolhouse " in the coun- 
try the fine community gathering place that it was. About this time 
there appeared in one of the magazines an article upon the evening 
uses of the schoolhouse in a village community. In that article the 
kindly neighborhood spirit which was developed in these schoolhouse 
meetings, social and political, was described. In connection with 
this description the author asserted that there is no such spirit of 
community interest, no such neighborly feeling, no such democracy 
as the village had, in any American city, and that there never can be 
such a spirit of community interest, such a neighborly spirit, and 
such democracy, until some institution is developed in the midst of 
our complex city life in which people of all races, classes and parties 
shall find a common gathering place, a common means of acquaint- 
ance, an opportunity to learn to think in terms of the city as a whole — 
until there is developed an institution which shall serve the people in 
the city as the Little Red Schoolhouse served the folks back home. . . . 

The Social Center was not to take the place of any existing institu- 
tion; it was not to be a charitable medium for the service particularly 
of the poor ; it was not to be a new kind of evening school ; it was 
not to take the place of any church or other institution of moral up- 
lift ; it was not to serve simply as an " Improvement Association " by 
which the people in one community should seek only the welfare of 
their district ; it was not to be a " Civic Reform " organization, 
pledged to some change in city or state or national administration; 
it was just to be the restoration of its true place in social life of that 
most American of all institutions, the Public School Center, in order 
that through this extended use of the school building might be de- 
veloped, in the midst of our complex life, the community interest, 
the neighborly spirit, the democracy that we knew before we came 
to the city. 

It was decided at that meeting that the Social Center should pro- 
vide opportunities for physical activity by means of gymnasium 
equipment and direction, baths, etc. ; opportunities for recreation, 
in addition to those which the gymnasium would offer, by the pro- 
vision of various innocent table games ; opportunities for intellectual 
activity by the provision of a library and reading room and by the 
giving of a lecture or entertainment at least once a week, while the 
essentially democratic, intimately social service of the Centers should 
be gained through the opportunities offered for the organization of 
self-governing clubs of men, of women, of boys and girls. 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 77 

The use of the Social Centers for free, untrammeled discussion of 
public questions was carefully considered, and the fact was cited that 
the School Extension Committee had already gone over this matter 
and had passed a motion that " The committee should insist upon the 
free use of the school buildings chosen, for neighborhood meetings, 
even politics and religion not being tabooed." And this was decided 
as the rule that should maintain, because such freedom was, of course, 
essential to the development of an institution which shall serve the 
people in the city as the Little Red Schoolhouse served the folks 
back home. 

The School Extension Committee had planned that the work should 
be carried on in several school buildings during the first year. When, 
however, it was decided that the money appropriated for this work 
should cover the expense of Playgrounds, Vacation Schools and 
Grammar School Athletics and that only a part of it should be de- 
voted to Social Centers, it was seen that it would be impossible to 
completely equip more than one building, and the question was up for 
decision as to whether the plan should be tried out in one Center 
completely equipped and open every night in the week, or whether 
the work should be partially begun in several school buildings. 
After considering the various phases of the question, it was decided, 
in the meeting of July 5, to concentrate in one building, and at the 
same time to make tentative beginnings of club work, without special 
equipment, perhaps one night each week in a couple of other buildings. 

To prevent the Social Center being regarded at its beginning as 
either a " kid glove " or a charitable institution, or anything less 
than a return to the country schoolhouse idea of a common gathering 
place for all sorts of people, it was decided that the first building to 
be chosen should be in as representative a district as possible, one in 
which neither the wealthy nor the poverty-stricken predominated, 
one in which there were both native- and foreign-born Americans, 
one in which the wide diversity of city life was well illustrated. With 
this idea in mind, No. 14 School Building was selected. Perhaps 
more than any other school building in Rochester, this one is located, 
geographically and socially, in midground of city life. It stands 
about halfway between East Avenue and Davis Street. There are 
in its neighborhood many of the early residents of Rochester, and 
there are also many newly arrived citizens from foreign shores ; many 
races, most of the religious, political and social groups in the city, 
are here represented. To quote from the first pubUshed statement 
regarding the Social Centers printed in the bulletin issued Novem- 
ber 7, 1907, " The first Social Center is established here in a repre- 
sentative district, neither overrich nor poor, but where people live 
who are self-respecting and capable, comfortably well-to-do, the kind 



78 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

of people who make the real strength and brain of our American 
life." 

The parts of the building which it was decided should be used for 
the Social Center were the assembly hall on the third floor, which was 
to serve five nights each week as a gymnasium and one night for an 
auditorium; the kindergarten room on the ground floor, which was 
to be used as a reading and quiet game room; and the art and physics 
rooms of the Normal School, which were to serve for club meetings. 
The first step in the equipping of the building was the installation of 
iron gates shutting off the parts of the building which were not to be 
used for the Social Center. The next was the equipping of the gym- 
nasium. One side of the assembly hall was to be used for a basket- 
ball court ; on the other side a horizontal bar, parallel bars, horse, 
ladder, flying and traveling rings, climbing ropes and poles, and mats 
for tumbling and wrestling were installed. In addition to this equip- 
ment, dumb-bells, Indian clubs, wands and boxing gloves, were pro- 
cured. It would have been most desirable to have installed shower 
baths in connection with the gymnasium and on the same floor. As 
it was impossible to do this, they were installed in a room on the 
ground floor in connection with the cloakroom of the kindergarten, 
which was to be used as a dressing room. This completed the equip- 
ment for physical exercise. For the recreational activities, outside 
of the gymnasium, sixty chairs, a dozen tables and a dozen table games, 
such as chess and checkers, were procured. For the intellectual 
activities of the Center, a stereopticon lantern was secured to be used 
in connection with lectures, a library of five hundred volumes was 
borrowed from Albany, and subscriptions were taken for a dozen 
periodicals. For the social activities a set of cheap dishes was pro- 
cured which could be used by the various clubs in the Social Center 
in serving refreshments, which these clubs might provide. 

In some respects. No. 14 School Building was well fitted for use as 
a Social Center. Its large kindergarten room and its two classrooms, 
which were used for club meetings, were unusually pleasant. On 
the other hand, the fact that the assembly hall was on the top floor 
made it difficult for the older people in the community to attend the 
lectures and entertainments ; the fact that the shower baths were away 
from the gymnasium and that the entrance which was to be used for 
the Social Center was in the rear of the building, — these things helped 
to make this a good building to try out the idea from the point of view 
of adaptation of the building. If success could be won in such a 
building, it could be attained almost anywhere. 

It was decided that the Social Center should be open from 7.30 to 
10 o'clock every evening in the week except Sunday. One even- 
ing was set apart for a general gathering of the men and women. 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 79 

boys and girls, of the Center. On this evening it was proposed that a 
lecture or entertainment, somewhat after the pattern of those which 
are provided in New York City, should be given. The School Board 
should assume complete responsibility for the character of these 
entertainments. Like the lectures given in New York City, these 
general lectures were to cost not more than $10 apiece in addi- 
tion to the expense of the speakers. Unlike the lectures given in 
New York, these were to be provided without expense to the city 
whenever they could be secured without imposition. It was decided 
that Friday evening should be used as the evening for the general 
lecture or entertainment at No. 14. The other five evenings of the 
week were to be divided between the men and boys, who should have 
three, and the women and girls, who should have the other two. 
Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday were set apart for the use of the men 
and boys, Monday and Wednesday for the women and girls. 

More important than the equipping of the building or the arrang- 
ing of the time schedule was the one step which remained to be taken 
before the Social Center work could be begun. This was the appoint- 
ment of directors for the various departments of the work. The first 
position in the Social Center was naturally that of the director of 
the Center, who should occupy a position relative to that of the prin- 
cipal of the school, overseeing all of the various activities of the Center 
and being present whenever the building was open. This position was 
to be occupied during the first year by the supervisor of the Centers. 

Next in importance to the director was the assistant, a woman to 
take charge of the women's and girls' activities of the Center and 
serve as their club director. It was especially fortunate for the try- 
ing out of the experiment at No. 14 that the woman who was ap- 
pointed to this position not only had such a spirit of social interest 
that she made over five hundred calls in the neighborhood, in which, 
by the way, she found not a single family in which the idea of the 
establishment of a Social Center in the community was not heartily 
welcomed, but she also possessed ability for musical leadership, so 
that even before the Social Center was formally opened, she had 
gathered an orchestra from the neighborhood which furnished music 
on the general evenings throughout the year. 

The third position to be filled was that of director of boys' clubs. 
This man was to be present three evenings each week, was to prepare 
programs for the meetings of the boys' organizations, to help the 
debaters and other speakers from among the boys themselves in their 
work of preparation, and to guide them in the orderly conduct of 
their club meetings. The qualifications for this position are high, 
and we were fortunate in securing a man in whom they were unusually 
well combined. The pay for this service was to be at the same rate 



8o SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

as the pay of an evening school teacher, $25 a month, though the 
club director was to give a half hour more each night than is given by 
the evening school teacher. 

The charge of the books and magazines and of the game room 
required the appointment of a librarian. It was necessary that this 
person should give five nights each week to the work, being present 
whenever the Center was open, except on the general evening. For this 
position it was necessary to have some one who was not only familiar 
enough with books to advise in their selection and to help in finding 
material for debates, etc., but also a person who could teach chess and 
other table games and could prevent disorder without preventing 
enjoyment. The salary affixed to this position was $30 per month. 

The gymnasium work required the appointment of, first, a director 
of gymnasium work among the men and boys, who should be present 
on their three evenings and who should be equipped to lead drills 
and classes in apparatus work as well as in the supervision of basket 
ball and other gymnasium games (this position, like that of the club 
director, was to pay the evening school rate of $25 per month) ; and 
second, a woman gymnasium director. On account of the fact that 
the women's gymnasium was to consist largely of drills and folk dances, 
requiring the accompaniment of a piano, an assistant was also ap- 
pointed who should serve as pianist. Because of the exceptional 
qualifications of the woman who was appointed to take charge of the 
women's gymnasium work, the salary for this position was made the 
same as that of the man gymnasium director, in spite of the fact that 
she was to serve only two evenings each week. The assistant's 
salary was fixed at $15. 

In addition to these positions, it was found necessary to appoint a 
door and hall keeper; first, to prevent running and disorder at the 
entrance and in the halls; second, to exclude the children who, on 
account of their age, were ineligible to the Social Center ; and third, 
to serve as an information bureau and guide to strangers who might 
visit the Center. 

In order to prepare the building for the use of the Social Center 
and to put it in order for the day school use, it was necessary that an 
assistant to the regular janitor of the building be employed. This 
man was to be responsible to the day janitor, who was to see that he 
did the required work in a proper manner. The salary attached to 
this position, which required a man's presence six nights each week, 
was $50 per month. 

With the plan of the work definitely laid out, the building equipped, 
the schedule of the division of time arranged, and the directors ap- 
pointed, the preparations were complete for the actual beginning 
of the work. 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 8i 

Friday evening, November i, 1907, was the date set for the open- 
ing of the first Social Center. In spite of the fact that very many 
people in the neighborhood knew nothing, or at best had an errone- 
ous idea, of the project, there were 314 people present. . . . 

The reason for the success of the Social Center No. 14, through its 
first year, was not primarily in any inspiration that came from the 
Board of Education, nor in the hospitality on the part of the day 
school teachers, great helps as both of these were ; it was primarily 
in the broad, joyous, hearty spirit of cooperation and good fel- 
lowship, which the people in the community began to show on 
that opening evening. There was present, as the first bulletin 
said, " a feeling that a great new opportunity and means of 
acquaintanceship and enjoyment had come into our neighbor- 
hood life." The immediate perception of the true spirit of the 
Social Centers was shown by one of the men of the community, 
who, as he left the building, remarked to the director, " It just 
means for the people to get their money's worth out of their own 
property." 

At the opening of the Center, the fundamental importance of club 
organization had been explained and it had been announced that the 
boys between 14 and 17 would have an opportunity to organize, on 
the following evening, a club which should hold meetings on each suc- 
cessive Saturday evening. The gymnasium, baths, library, etc., 
were to be open for the men and older boys, while the small boys 
were having their meeting. The young men between 17 and 21 were 
invited to form a club to meet on Tuesday evening, while the men and 
younger boys were to have the use of the other parts of the Social 
Center equipment. Thursday evening was set apart for the club 
meeting of men, if such a club were formed, the boys having the 
gymnasium and the rest of the equipment on that evening. The 
women were invited to form their club to meet on Monday evening, 
and the girls and younger women to use Wednesday evenings, each 
group to have the use of the gymnasium, etc., during the time when 
its members were not holding their meeting. . 

In one respect all of these organizations were to be alike. They 
were all to bear the expenses which their meetings and programs in- 
curred, except the expense of heating, lighting and janitor service, 
and, in the case of the clubs of young people, the salary of the club 
director ; which expenses should be paid out of the Social Center fund. 
Each club was to be free and dependent upon itself for the selection 
of officers, arrangement of programs, etc. The adult clubs would have 
no supervisor, though they might, of course, call upon any of the So- 
cial Center force for help. The younger clubs would be guided in their 
organization by a director, who would be present at each of their 



82 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

meetings, to help in the orderly conduct of business and to advise 
concerning programs, etc. 

It was further announced that the general lectures and entertain- 
ments and the uses of the rest of the equipment would be open to 
all men and women, but to only those young people who were mem- 
bers in good standing of one of the clubs. This requirement was not 
placed upon adults because it was expected (and the event fulfilled 
the expectation) that for them the club meetings would be the most 
important part of Social Center activity anyway. 

On Saturday evening about twenty-eight boys, between 14 and 17, 
met and effected an organization. A constitution was drawn up with 
the aid of the director and adopted. The preamble of that constitu- 
tion was as follows : — 

" Whereas, the world needs men and women who can think clearly 
and express their thoughts well ; and whereas, each of us has powers 
of clear thinking and good expression which need only practice 
for development; and whereas, by combination of effort the best 
results may be obtained, we whose names are hereunto annexed, do 
form a society whose object shall be the cultivation of the powers 
of clear thinking and good expression by means of debates, essays, 
orations, public readings and discussions." 

The following Tuesday evening thirty-four boys, between 17 and 
21, came together and formed an organization similar to that which 
the younger boys had formed on Saturday evening, adopting a con- 
stitution similar to that of the younger club. 

The Men's Club, for which Thursday evening was reserved, did not 
materialize until a month later. 

On Monday evening some forty women formed an organization to 
hold weekly meetings, drew up a constitution and elected ofl&cers. 

The girls under 21 formed their club on the same lines as those 
followed by the boys' organization, on Wednesday evening. 

In the younger clubs it was voted that the programs should consist 
of two debates, one address by an outside speaker and one miscella- 
neous program each month. The women's club decided to have two 
addresses, one debate or other special program, and one social even- 
ing each month. 

In each of these clubs it was voted that a small sum of money should 
be required as dues, which should go into a club fund for providing 
refreshments on social evenings or to bear any other expense which 
the club might incur. 

In each of these clubs, at the beginning, the membership was 
restricted to those whom the club elected in by vote, the theory 
being that new clubs of boys and girls or women might be formed 
at any time by those who, for any reason, did not become members of 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 83 

the already existing clubs. Following out this idea, there were formed 
within a month after the organization of the first clubs, two other 
clubs of boys between 17 and 21, one other club of boys between 14 
and 17, and a second women's club ; so that by the middle of the first 
year in No. 14, there were five boys' clubs, two women's clubs and 
one young women's club. 

On December 5, 1907, twelve men came together in the Social 
Center and organized the first Men's Civic Club, The aim of this 
organization was expressed in the preamble of its constitution as 
follows : — 

" Whereas, the welfare of society demands that those whose duty 
it is to exercise the franchise be well informed upon the economic, 
industrial and political questions of to-day; and whereas, by com- 
bination of effort the best results may be obtained; and whereas, 
the public school building is the best available place for such com- 
bination of effort ; therefore, we, whose names are hereunto annexed, 
do form a society, to hold, in the public school building, meetings 
whose object shall be the gaining of information upon public questions 
by listening to public speakers and by public readings and discussions." 

At this first meeting of the club. Dr. J. L. Roseboom was elected 
president. In his inaugural address was expressed the true spirit 
of the Social Center as the restoration to the school in the city of the 
democratic social activities, which were connected with the uses of the 
schoolhouse " back home." In that address he said that he had been 
brought up, as a boy, in a farming community where the individual's 
interest in and responsibility for public matters finds expression in 
meetings in the schoolhouse. He had watched the development of 
the Social Center and had noticed a similarity to the social uses of 
the schoolhouses there. He felt that the institution would not be 
completed unless, like its prototype, it included meetings of the men 
in the community, for the open presentation and free discussion of 
public questions. 

The representative character of this organization was shown in the 
fact that among the first set of officers elected, two were members 
of the " well-to-do" class, one a banker, the other a physician, 
while the others were men who labored with their hands. 

The enthusiasm with which the organization of this Men's Civic 
Club was received was such that at the second meeting of the club 
the membership roll increased to fifty. At that meeting Alderman 
Frank Ward, who had been invited to address the Club on " The 
Duties of an Alderman," made a memorable statement as to the 
value of such an organization. At the close of his address he responded 
to the vote of thanks tendered him by the club, by saying : " You 
have given me a vote of thanks. I feel that I want to give you a 



84 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

vote of thanks for the privilege of speaking to you and hearing your 
frank discussion of my words. If you have been benefited by my 
coming here, I have been benefited more. If every member of the 
Common Council and every other public servant had, frequently, 
such opportunities as this to discuss public matters with those to whom 
he owes his appointment, it would mean that we would have much 
better, more intelligent, representation of the people's interests and 
a cleaner government." 

In addition to these clubs, the only other one formed was the or- 
chestra, which has already been mentioned, and which, while it had 
no regular written constitution or form of business in meetings, 
virtually constituted a club. There were ten members of the or- 
chestra, both men and women. They met for practice, under the 
leadership of the assistant director of the Center every Tuesday 
evening, and then played at the general Friday evening lecture or 
entertainment. The part that this organization had in making the 
Social Center attractive and successful was very great. 

Extracts from " The Second Yearns Record" 

The selection of the names " Coming Civic Club " and " Future 
Civic Club," and their significance, have been mentioned. The 
motto that was chosen by one of these clubs " From the corners to 
the Center " is also significant. The phrase suggests the larger 
service of the Social Center as a place where people of different groups, 
political, religious and social, who occupy various corners of our frag- 
mentary life, may meet, become acquainted, broaden their outlook 
and develop the ability to think in terms of the whole city. But, 
while that is the greater service of the Social Centers, the service 
that is first suggested by this phrase " From the corners to the Cen- 
ter," to the boys and young men of the community, who would, with- 
out the Social Center, be spending their time on street corners, is a 
great one. 

On Sunday afternoon, December 20, the most remarkable evi- 
dence that has appeared thus far, of the value of the Coming Civic 
Clubs as a means of training boys and young men in self-government, 
was given at No. 14 Social Center. The director, coming from one 
of the other Centers, arrived in the middle of the afternoon. When 
he entered the building, not seeing any of the boys about, he asked 
the doorkeeper where they were. " They are holding a meeting in 
the Art Room," he answered. " Who is with them? " asked the 
director. " Nobody," was the response. " Don't you know that they 
should not be in that room without a director present? " " I have 
been listening," replied the doorkeeper, " in the hall, and they seem 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 85 

to be orderly." The director went to the Art Room, and, opening the 
door, found between thirty and forty fellows, sitting in perfect order, 
the president in his chair, the secretary beside him taking the minutes 
of the meeting, and one of the youths on his feet presenting the claims 
of Mr. Bryan for the presidency. The director sat down to listen 
to the discussion. After the speaker had used his allotted time, the 
floor was given to a rival claimant; and so an orderly triangular 
debate was carried through. When it was over, it was learned that 
a dispute had been started in the hall over the relative merits of 
the Republican and Democratic candidates. A year before, if these 
fellows had been interested at all in such a question, a dispute would 
have led to loud contradictions, possibly blows. In the midst of the 
discussion in the hall it was suggested that, in order to give all sides 
a fair show, they should hold a five-sided debate, with two defendants 
of the claims of each of the candidates. There being no Independ- 
ence Leaguer nor Prohibitionist present, it was finally decided to make 
it a triangular debate, giving the one Socialist youth in the crowd 
a chance to speak twice to make up for the fact that there were two 
Republicans and two Democrats present. 

Here these fellows were, holding, on their own initiative, an orderly 
debate, these fellows who, a year before, had been willing to do al- 
most anything to get out of debating in the club meetings. None 
of them were schoolboys, and some of them were fellows of the " nat- 
urally agin the government " type. 

The statement of the object of one of these Coming Civic Clubs 
was that day shown to be more than empty words. " The object of 
the club shall be to train its members for citizenship in the republic." 

In addition to the opportunities which are offered by the regular 
meetings of these clubs, for the demonstration of their service, there 
have been two occasions when the public has had a chance to learn 
what they mean to the young fellows. One of these was in the ad- 
dress, called for and given without preparation, by the president of 
the West High Coming Civic Club on the occasion of the visit of 
the delegation which came from Buffalo to see the Social Centers, 
on the 14th of December. No one who was present could fail to 
be impressed by the words of this young man, when he told how the 
fellows of that neighborhood appreciated the opening of the Social 
Center. The other was the address given by the president of the 
No. 14 Coming Civic Club at the " People's Sunday Evening " in 
the National Theater on February 7. Here this young fellow gave 
the challenge, " How do you expect boys to grow up into good citi- 
zens when they have nothing but the training of the street corners? " 

The same plan of activity, which was established during the first 
year, has been followed in these clubs, the emphasis being upon debating. 



86 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

The clubs have had social afifairs of various kinds. That at No. 
14 has given a second minstrel show, which was quite as successful 
as that of last year. The club at West High entertained the girls' 
club with a sleighride and supper. But interest in the club life cen- 
ters always about debating, and the attention was focused upon the 
final triangular debate between teams from the three Centers, which 
met to compete for championship in a triangular debate at West 
High on April 15. 

The activities to which the girls' clubs have been devoted through 
this year have been more of a social character than those of the boys' 
clubs. The girls' club at No. 14 has continued on much the same 
lines that it followed during the first year. The club at West High 
was organized primarily as a Shakespeare study club. Portia, how- 
ever, soon came down from her pedestal to play basket ball, and 
through most of the year gymnasium work has played a large part 
in the life of the West High Club. 

The strongest girls' club, in point of numbers, is that at No. 9 
Center, which meets on Sunday afternoon. No one could visit a 
meeting of this club without realizing the great value of such an or- 
ganization of young women. 

In all of the girls' clubs the same tendency which is shown by the 
other clubs toward a fair balance between serious work and recrea- 
tion is apparent. Organized work in singing has been begun in each 
of these clubs, and it is probable that some excellent developments 
of this kind may be expected during the coming year. 

The character of the Women's Civic Clubs may be shown by quot- 
ing the preamble of the constitution of the one which meets at West 
High Social Center on Tuesday evening, and giving the topics and 
attendance at its meetings. This constitution and program are 
typical of all three of these clubs. 

" Preamble 

" Whereas, we as twentieth century women have duties to society, 
to our homes and to ourselves which demand that we be well informed 
upon public questions and that we have broad sympathy with our 
fellows : 

"And whereas, organization for securing public speakers, for dis- 
cussions, debates, entertainments and all sorts of wholesome gather- 
ings, is among the best means for the attainment of these ends; 

" And whereas, the public school building is the best available place 
for such organization; 

" We, whose names are hereunto annexed, do form ourselves into a 
society, to hold meetings in the Public School Building for listening 
to public speakers, for discussions, debates, entertainments and all 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 87 

sorts of wholesome social gatherings, to the end that we may gain 
for ourselves, and for the community, intelligence upon public ques- 
tions and sympathetic acquaintance with our fellows." . . . 

Meeting in the earnest consideration of common problems, differ- 
ences of race or creed only add to the interest of this acquaintance- 
ship. In this broad fine atmosphere, pettyness has never appeared. 

The word " civic " is no misnomer. The main business of these 
clubs is the dissemination of intelligence on public questions. At 
the same time a strong emphasis is laid upon social activities. A 
fine illustration of this sort of program was the " Recipe Exchange " 
which the No. 14 Women's Civic Club held on Monday evening, 
March 22, 1909. Each of the members of the club brought a dish 
of her favorite cooking, and a recipe for preparing it. The various 
dishes were placed upon the table; the recipes were written on the 
board and copied by each of the members. The evening closed by 
the serving of the favorite dishes, a sample of each for every member. 
These meetings are not at all " dress " occasions, the women, as a 
rule, leaving their hats in the cloak room and spending the hour with- 
out formality. 

Not only have these clubs served to bring together, upon a common 
ground of acquaintance, the women of each community, but they have 
also served to acquaint the women of the different sections of 
the city with each other, each of the clubs having entertained, during 
the year, the members of the Women's Clubs from the other Social 
Centers. In addition to the social affairs carried on by the women 
among themselves, it has been the custom of the Women's Civic Clubs, 
particularly of that in No. 14 Center, to entertain, about once a month, 
the Men's Civic Clubs. On these occasions refreshments are served, 
and a special program of music is provided. The usual plan is for the 
Men's Club to pay the expenses and the women to serve the refresh- 
ments and provide the program. All such affairs have been carried 
on without expense to the city. 

The most notable of these occasions, and indeed one which marks 
the peculiar service of the Social Center, took place at No. 14 on the 
night of February 22, when the Women's Civic Club entertained 
the Italian Men's Civic Club. This Women's Civic Club is made up, 
almost entirely, of American-born women. The majority of the 
Italian Men's Civic Club are, more or less, recent immigrants, who 
do not speak English fluently. The whole evening was one of ex- 
ceptionally fine spirit, one woman remarking that never before had she 
realized that "people who are so different are so much the same." 
" I never realized before how interesting humanity is," she said. The 
climax of the evening was in the presentation by the Women's Civic 



88 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Club of a silk Italian flag to the Italian Men's Civic Club, and the 
presentation in return by the Italian Men's Civic Club, to the women, 
of a handsome picture of George Washington. Together they hang 
in the Social Center, the emblem of the internationalism, the humanity, 
that recognizes race differences as lines, not for prejudice or hatred, 
but to be rejoiced in because they bring diversity and interest to the 
larger human unity. Two weeks later the Italian men entertained the 
Women's Civic Club and presented to them a silk American flag. . . . 

The Men's Civic Clubs, differing with the different communities 
in which they have been organized, have all kept, throughout this 
year, the same character of broad civic interest and freedom which 
marked those organized last year. 

In the account of the organization of No. 14 Men's Civic Club 
is given the statement of Alderman Frank A. Ward, regarding the value 
of such an organization, which he made at the second meeting of this 
club. 

A statement that may well be put with that of Alderman Ward 
was made at the organization meeting of the Civic Club formed in 
No. 30 School Building on February 5, when Alderman William Buck- 
ley said: " The value of the Civic Club from the point of view of the 
private citizen has been stated. I want to say a word in regard to 
its value from the point of view of the public servant. An alderman 
is elected to represent the people ; a good alderman wants to repre- 
sent the people, but how in the world can he represent the people un- 
less he knows what the people want? And how shall he know what 
the people want unless they tell him? I welcome the Civic Club 
because it will give me an opportunity to learn the will of the people 
in this neighborhood." . . . 

The regular meetings of the clubs are given over entirely to the 
presentation and discussion of public questions. In the programs 
of all of the clubs there has been constantly evident a desire for the 
presentation of both sides of any mooted question, and in the success 
thus far gained, in having a fair opportunity for both sides of ques- 
tions to be represented, is indicated the exceptional service of the 
Civic Club. As an illustration of this practice of listening to both 
sides, the treatment of the saloon question may be taken. At one 
meeting Mr. C. N. Howard, the noted Prohibitionist, presented 
the argument against the saloon. He was followed at the next meet- 
ing of the club by the vice president of the Turnverein, who presented 
a carefully prepared paper upon the service of the saloon as a social 
institution for men who cannot afford private clubs. Men, who 
sided with each of these speakers, attended both meetings, and the 
effect of such fair presentation was pointed out by the Prohibition 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 89 

County Chairman, who said that, while he beheved the saloon advo- 
cate was wrong, yet this pair of addresses had left him with more 
respect than he had ever had before for the men who differed from 
him. The same broadening result naturally followed in the discus- 
sions of the problems of the relation between labor and capital. For 
instance, the conviction of Gompers, Mitchell and Morrison was pre- 
sented upon one night by a prominent manufacturer, who believed, 
and gave his reasons for believing, that the action of the court was 
just. At the following meeting one of the recognized labor leaders 
presented the arguments against this position. The question of the 
value of newspapers was presented ; first, by the editor of one of the 
papers in the city, who spoke on their high service, and then by Samuel 
Hopkins Adams, who, in a paper on " Undercurrents of Journalism" 
gave his views of the evil of the control of the press by unscrupulous 
interests. The benefit of a free nonpartisan platform in developing 
a courteous attitude, between those who differ radically upon public 
questions, was well illustrated in the spirit shown in the presentation 
of the two sides of the free textbook question in successive meetings 
before one of the clubs. It was after one of these pairs of discussions 
that a reporter of one of the papers said to the director of the Center, 
" I have never expected to see an organization developed in which 
such questions could be so warmly discussed without bitterness." 
While there was never yet, in all of these discussions, developed any 
discourtesy, their earnestness may be shown by a remarkable inci- 
dent. At one of the meetings a seasoned newspaper reporter actually 
so far forgot his mission that he not only failed to take notes of the 
discussion, but rose and took part in it. When the city editor ques- 
tioned him about it, he answered that if he (the city editor) had been 
there, he probably would have done the same thing. 

While most of the meetings of these clubs have been devoted to 
larger public questions, whenever local community problems have 
come up for solution, these clubs have dealt with them. They have 
uniformly showed a conservative spirit in their actions regarding 
local or municipal improvements. Only in a few cases have the clubs 
united in definite requests; in seeking the securing of playgrounds 
or parks, in seeking to secure changes in the street railway service, 
and otherwise in improving the conditions of their neighborhoods. . . . 

There have been indications of the development of recreational 
activities in connection with the clubs. For instance, one of them has 
taken steps this year toward securing bowling alleys, and it is likely 
that this club will carry the project through, because the building in 
which it meets will not offer the difficulties which stood in the way 
of the club at No. 14 last year. But whatever recreational or other 
features may be added to the Civic Club activities, it is probable 



90 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

that its prime service will remain the development of intelligent pub- 
lic spirit by the open presentation and free discussion of public 
questions. 

Special reference should be made to the service of the two Italian 
Men's Civic Clubs which have been organized this year. These have 
the same object as the other Men's Civic Clubs, and in addition to that 
object the members aim especially to serve their recently arrived 
compatriots. Any one who has studied at all the problem of immi- 
gration realizes the great advantage which can be gained from such 
an organization. The newcomer to this country is liable to all sorts 
of tricks by which advantage is taken of his ignorance of the laws and 
usages of his new home and of his rights as a citizen. Moreover, he 
needs sympathetic guidance in order to a quick adjustment to his 
new surroundings. It is for this double service of protecting the 
Italian immigrants from the preying upon their ignorance, and to help 
them in understanding their new citizenship, that the two clubs, the 
one at No. 14 Social Center and the other at No. 5 School Building, 
were formed. One of these clubs has had the benefit of the direction 
of an Italian, a court interpreter and a teacher in one of the high 
schools. The other has been in charge of an Italian-speaking American 
citizen. Both of these men have given their service without charge, 
and each of them has shown remarkable devotion to the welfare of 
the immigrant. That these clubs have done the service for which 
they were organized is shown by the words of one of the members 
of the club at No. 14, who, at the close of the concert which that 
club gave on December 20, said, " Here, for the first time, I find 
realized the dream of what America would be, which I dreamed when 
I was in Italy." 

The spirit of these clubs, which is appreciated in such words as the 
above, is expressed in the accompanying cartoon, drawn by one of the 
members of the "Spontaneous Art Club." At one end the Italian 
coat of arms, at the other the United States shield, each of them merg- 
ing into the large brotherhood of the Social Center, signifying the 
idea of '' Social Exchange." The common attitude toward the for- 
eigner might be expressed by merging the Italian coat of arms into the 
United States shield. This would signify that nothing is made of 
the Italian's contribution to the common store; he is regarded as 
simply a learner coming to get something from the American. In 
the Social Center, with this idea of exchange, it is recognized that the 
Italian has something to get, but he also has something to give ; he 
has much to learn, but he also has much to teach. He is there not 
simply as a recipient of the service or advice of the American, who 
says, " You must become like me," rather he is there met by the Ameri- 
can, who says, " Let us get together, you with your ideas and hopes 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 91 

and traditions and we with ours, and so shall we both develop a 
larger understanding, so shall we both be benefited." The response 
of the Italians to this manner of meeting them as men and brothers, 
and its effect, is indicated in the words of one of them who, speaking 
at the meeting of the " People's Sunday Evening " in the National 
Theater, on February 7, said that never before had he known of 
any institution which so strongly tended to develop the self-respect 
and the manhood of the Italian. " When you meet the Italian half 
way," said he, " as you do in the Social Center, recognizing that he, 
as an Italian, has something to bring, something to contribute to the 
common store, then you teach him to love and honor the American 
Flag and all that it stands for to you, by showing some respect for 
his flag, and all that that stands for to him, then you make him 
feel friendly, you make him feel that he is a man, you make him feel 
that he must be worthy of his larger citizenship." . . . 

The total attendance at these '' General Evenings " at the three 
Centers this year, from November i to April 17, was 22,961, an 
average attendance for each evening of 353. In all there have been 
65 lectures or entertainments provided; of these 42 have been fur- 
nished without expense to the city. Not more than ten dollars has 
been paid as a fee for any lecture; in addition to this fee it has, of 
course, been necessary to pay the traveling expenses of those speakers 
who have been brought here from out of town. The total cost, aside 
from the lighting, heat, janitor service and supervision, of these gen- 
eral evenings has been $291.70. This makes the cost for special en- 
tertainment or lectures less than a penny and a quarter per attendance. 

The same spirit of generous cooperation has been shown during 
this year, not only by those who have given their services free of 
charge, but also by those who have received a fee, for, in every such 
case, the service has been given at a fraction of the usual charge for 
such service. 

E. J. Ward. Extracts from a pamphlet of the above title. Courtesy of the author. 

Comment on the School as a Social Center 

Two of the most important educational movements of the last 
twenty-five years in the United States, says President Eliot, have had 
to do with young people who have passed the school age. These 
movements are the development of social centers and of playground 
and amusement centers.^ The social center work is, in brief, a move- 
ment to utilize in various ways outside of regular school hours the 

1 Conflict of Individualism and Collectivism in a Democracy, p. 68. 



92 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

school building and equipment for the benefit of the entire community. 
It is the expression of the growing idea " that the school should minister 
to other needs of the community besides the purely educational." 

It is not implied that the education of the children is not a true 
social service, but rather that with small additional expense the school 
plant may be adapted to other important services which are also 
broadly educational. " It is in this idea of the school as a social cen- 
ter that the whole modern evolution in education finds its completion. 
The school building becomes not merely a place for educating the young, 
it is the place where the whole community educates itself, adults as 
well as children. It is not open simply for a few hours in each day 
and for one specific purpose, but during all the social hours it is open 
for social ends. It displaces evil forces. The tavern and the saloon 
are displaced as centers of political and social influence. The school 
is made the home of games, of lectures, of concerts, of reading rooms 
and of many other forms of community culture and innocent amuse- 
ment." ^ The theory and the practice of this conception of the larger 
function of education in the modern community is admirably stated 
in the two papers printed herewith. In the paper by Professor Dewey 
the underlying principles are presented ; in Mr. Ward's paper we have 
an account of how these principles were actually applied in the city 
of Rochester. As the reader will have noted, the work was there 
started with men's civic clubs and extended from them to organiza- 
tions of women and of young people. It has been maintained by 
those engaged in that work that this is the most desirable sequence ; 
that if the social center work is organized first for the youth, it will 
never spread to and include the adults, especially the men of the com- 
munity. However that may be, it is true that social center work as 
understood in most cities has been confined to work among children 
and young people; that is, to opening the school building after regu- 
lar school hours to provide a meeting place for boys' and girls' clubs, 
a place for quiet study, for playing games and gymnastics, for social 
gatherings, etc. There can be no question but that all communities, 
even those of the villages and rural districts, need such a properly 
controlled center for general neighborhood life. The need, as far as 
the young people are concerned, is especially great. It has three as- 

* Condensed from The Independent, Vol. 57, p. iii. 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 93 

pects, that for recreation, for social intercourse, and for a continuation 
of instruction beyond the school years. With reference to adults, 
these needs are also real, but it is still a question as to just how far the 
school can reach them along all these lines. In the evening lecture 
system of New York and some other cities the continuation of the 
education of adults is apparently carried on with much success. On 
the side of recreation and social intercourse, the schools can also reach 
the adults to a limited degree. In the smaller community the whole 
population needs to be brought together occasionally in the spirit of 
play, of social intercourse, and of general good fellowship. In the 
larger communities the life is so complex and interests are so diversi- 
fied, it is apparently impossible to get all the people together on any 
such common ground; but even here there are portions of the com- 
munity which respond and are undoubtedly benefited. There seems 
no good reason why the work should not be carried on as far as op- 
portunity affords, even if all the members of the neighborhood do not 
respond. 

The need for social center work on the part of the school is directly 
related to the increasing complexity of modern community life, es- 
pecially in the cities. The mere fact that all classes will not respond 
does not prove that they would not be benefited if they could be in- 
duced to cultivate the neighborly spirit through the social center. 

For accompKshing all such things it would seem to be the part of 
economy to employ as far as possible the capital which society has 
invested in its schools. It is true the public school property may, 
if devoted to these broader uses, deteriorate more rapidly than if 
confined strictly to its traditional functions, although experience 
has shown that the wear is not in proportion to the additional service. 
In fact, it appears in some places that the broader social use of the 
school property produces in the minds of both old and young a sense 
of greater responsibility for its protection from all sorts of damage. 
But whether this be found to be fully so or not in every locality, it 
would at least be probable that the social service rendered would be 
out of all proportion to the additional cost. In fact, the cost to the 
community will be much less if these things are attempted through 
the school plant than if they are attempted through a separate and 
independent investment. 



94 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

The question may occur to some as to whether this social center 
work, necessary though it be, is properly educational; that is, whether 
it can really be included within the so-called extensions of present- 
day school activity, or whether it is not more or less adventitious to 
education, even in the liberal interpretation of that function. It may 
be urged that the linking of social center work with the narrower 
teaching functions of the school is external and accidental, merely 
the outcome of the fact that the school building is at hand and is con- 
venient for use in this additional manner. Such a view, however, is 
superficial and does not take into account the fact that in a progres- 
sive society the duties of educational agencies and the scope of edu- 
cational theory must also grow in both extension and intension. Such 
services are certainly in accord with the larger conception of educa- 
tion current to-day; namely, that the school should, as far as lies within 
its power, extend its teaching function to the community at large, by 
providing for special classes and systematic lecture courses along the 
lines of vital community interests and needs ; by providing opportu- 
nity for vocational training and vocational direction even for adults. 
Moreover, if the informational activities of the school may be properly 
extended to the community at large, may not other phases of the 
work of the school? Thus, it is a part of the work of the school to 
make some provision for recreation and physical training, to pro- 
vide children with adequate opportunity for healthful social inter- 
course, to cultivate good habits and right moral ideals. All of these 
are recognized aspects of the education of the children of the commu- 
nity. If it is legitimate to extend in any way the scope of school activi- 
ties, it would seem both logical and legitimate that these should be 
made to include as far as possible some provision for recreation, physi- 
cal, educational and healthful social intercourse, both for adults and 
for children. 

Of course there is no intrinsic reason why these services may not 
be performed by a variety of agencies. In fact, there are other agents 
at work along these lines, but none of them are so widespread or prom- 
ise to be so generally acceptable to all classes as those which may oper- 
ate under the auspices of the public schools. That this work has fallen 
to the schools seems in large measure to be due to the readiness of 
the school to respond to the growing demand on the part of the com- 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 95 

niunity coupled with the recognition that the doing of such things 
is in hne with the broader conception of education. Nor can any 
other agency do the work so effectively and so easily as can the school. 
In the first place, as we have said, it has the material equipment largely 
in readiness. There are the gymnasiums, halls, libraries, shops and 
laboratories, all of which are admirably adapted to just such uses. 
Furthermore, the school is a natural spiritual center for the commu- 
nity. It is where the children spend a large portion of the day. The 
interests engendered there are often carried back and discussed in the 
home. A certain common interest in the school and its work is thus 
the only existing point of contact between the majority of the members 
of the community. It thus becomes a place toward which all may 
naturally turn, and which can more effectively than any other agency 
unite the community in a healthful social life. 

It is true that only a few schools are beginning to realize these pos- 
sibilities, but there is an unquestionable movement in the direction 
here indicated. The attempt has been to show that the movement 
is legitimate as well as desirable, and that it can hardly be classed as 
merely a passing fad. 

The social center work, which has thus far developed naturally, 
varies greatly in its scope and details from city to city. In some lo- 
calities, as in Rochester, New York, the object has been to develop a 
higher civic life among the adult members of the community. 

Boston was a pioneer in social center work of another type, it having 
been initiated there in 1899. Many other cities have followed suit, 
notable among which are Milwaukee, Columbus, Cleveland, Chicago. 
In some cases the initial cost has been met by private subscriptions, 
often raised by women's clubs. Later the school boards have taken 
up the work. In these latter places the work is still confined largely 
to the children and youth, it being the purpose of the social center to 
furnish opportunity for the young people to have suitable places for 
recreation and social intercourse, and afford rooms for clubs of all 
sorts. It was in the opening of certain school buildings in New York 
City to boys' and girls' clubs in 1897 that the work was started there. 
The aspects of the work are so diversified that it will be more satis- 
factory to consult the accounts of it referred to in the Bibliography 
than to attempt a brief and necessarily abstract summary of it here. 



96 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

BIBLIOGRAPHY ON THE SCHOOL AS A SOCIAL CENTER 

Brown, E. E. "Some uses of the public schoolhouse," Playground, 
4:393-403. Evidences of the new appreciation of sociability. 

Buck, Winifred. "Work and play in the public schools," Outlook, 

80:725-732, June 12, 1905. 
Buckley, W. L. " The school as a social center," Charities, 15 : 76-78. 
Burns, R. L. "Schools as community centers," Pa. Sch. Jour.j 

57: 490-492, 1909- 
Dewey, John. "The school as a social center," N. E. A ., 1902, p. 373. 

Statement of general principles imderlying problem of socializing 

education. Reprinted in this section. 

Eliot, C. W. "The full utihzation of a public school plant," N.E.A., 
1903, pp. 241-247. Money invested in schools should be utilized 
more fully; results are good from both moral and economic 
standpoint. 

Gove, Aaron. "Proper use of schoolhouses," N. E. A., 1897, p. 253. 
Public money should be used for instruction of adults as well 
as children ; practical suggestions for extending use of both rural 
and urban schools. 

Griswold, F. K. "The open schoolhouse: its part in the vacation 
of the stay-at-home," El. S. T., 9: 517, 1909. 

Montgomery, Louise. "Social work of the Hamline School," El. 
S. r., 8:113. Mothers' organization; building open once a 
month to pubHc; children's clubs; gardens, excursions, etc. 

MowRY, Duane. "Use of schoolhouses for other than school pur- 
poses," Ed., 29:92. School a true center of commimity; com- 
mon property; fosters local interest; trains citizens; has a 
spiritualizing influence. 

Neligh, Clara D. "The school as a social and industrial center," 

Southern Workman, 36:604-612. November, 1907. 
Paulding, J. K. "The pubHc school as a center of community 

life," Ed. Rev., 15 : 147-154, February, 1898. 
Perine, M. L. "The institutional school," S. Rev., 17 : 344. Quite 

general: emphasizes the need for. 
Perry, C. A. The Wider Use of the School Plant. Russell Sage 

Foundation, 1910. Most complete account pubHshed of the 

various "wider uses," A statement of facts. 
"The community used school," N. S. S. E., Pt. I, 64-72. 1911. 



THE SCHOOL AS A CENTER OF SOCIAL LIFE 97 

Riley, T. J. "Increased use of public school property," Am. Jour. 
Soc, March, 1906, p. 655. Need of furnishing those who have 
left school with social and educational opportunities. 

RoBBiNS, Jane E. "The settlement and the public school," Outlook, 
95 : 785, August 6, 1910. 

"Schools as social centers," Independent, 57:110. Consolida- 
tion of district schools into town schools involves problem of 
school garden system and of training for social duties. 

"Social centers in the Columbus schools," Survey, 23 : 696-697. 

1910. Started in 1906; extension society, athletic clubs, in- 
terest increases, broader work planned for future. 

"Social center work in Milwaukee," Charities, 21:441-443. 

Sought by people; social, economic, musical, and literary clubs, 
gymnastic classes, city charter amended, mode of administration. 

Spargo, J. "Social service of a city school," Craftsman, 10 : 605-613. 
School cannot rest with merely imparting knowledge in this day 
of social unrest. 

Stitt, E. W. "Evening recreation centers," N. S. S. E., Pt. i, 39-50. 

Stokes, J. G. P. "Public schools as social centers," An. Am. Acad., 
23 : 457-463. 1904. Defects in our educational system have 
contributed to social maladjustments; what schools may and 
are doing. 

Ward, Edward J. Rochester Social Centers and Civic Clubs: The 
story of the First Two Years. Extracts reprinted in this section. 

"The Rochester social centers," The Playground Association, 

Proceedings, 3 : 387-395. 1910. 

"The little red schoolhouse," Survey, 22:640-649, August 7, 

1909. 

"The modern social center revival," The Playground, 4:403. 



A convenient summary of the papers and addresses given at the 
annual meeting of the National Municipal League, November, 
1910. 

Weston, Olive E. "The school as a social center," El. S. T., 6 : 108. 
School building should always be at service of people. 

Yerkes, Helen K. "Social centers," The Playground, 2:14-18. 
December, 1908. Use of school buildings in a certain city for 
home and school associations. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR CONTINUING THE EDUCATION OF THE ADULT 

School Extension and Adult Education 

The extension of the use of the school on the lines to which I have 
referred has, in the city of New York, been even further broadened. 
It is believed that education is required not alone as a means of liveli- 
hood, but as a means of life; and that as Bishop Spaulding says, 
" The wise and the good are they who grow old still learning many 
things, entering day by day into more vital communion with beauty, 
truth, and righteousness." 

It is the belief in this theory that has led the city of New York 
to include in its conception of the school a provision for adult educa- 
tion. Its underlying principle is that education must be unending. 
The city's prosperity and growth depend on the intelligence of its 
citizens, and as we have come to realize that the child is of supreme 
importance, so have we also arrived slowly at the conclusion that he 
who from necessity has remained a child in education, needs continuous 
instruction. 

A librarian once told me that a young reader came into her library 
and said he wished a book entitled " How to Get Educated and How 
to Stay So." He unconsciously spoke a great truth. It is one thing 
to get educated ; it is another to stay so. The school gives the begin- 
ning of education. Provision for adult education is necessary to 
enable us "to stay so." Of the school population in our land, about 
three per cent attend high schools, and less than one and one half per 
cent the colleges, universities, and professional schools. The great 
body of our citizens have but limited education ; and the very persons 
best fitted to profit by education and who need it most are in most 
cases denied its beneficent influence. Two classes are especially in 
need of it ; first, those between fourteen and twenty years, the time 
of adolescence, when conscience is disturbed and when character is 
being formed; at that time all the safeguards of true culture must be 
around youth ; and then there is a large class of mature people who 
have a knowledge of practical life and who appreciate the value of 
education most keenly. It is from such a class that our students — 

98 



SOCIAL NEED FOR CONTINUING EDUCATION OF ADULT 99 

I call them that rightly — of electricity, of physics, of history, are 
recruited. A lecturer on physics wrote to me the other day, " The 
questions put to me by my hearers were, as a rule, more intelligent 
than are asked in many a college." 

Sixteen years ^ ago the Free Lecture movement was tentatively 
begun in New York in six schoolhouses. The total attendance was 
about 20,000. During the past year there were 140 places where 
systematic courses of lectures were given by 450 lecturers, and there 
came an attendance of 1,155,000. The growth indicated by the 
figures which I have just quoted must lead to the conclusion that this 
democratic movement for adult education is appreciated by a con- 
stantly increasing body of our citizens. The large number who have 
attended this year prove that the appetite for instruction on the part 
of the people has not been appeased, but that, like all good things, 
appetite comes with eating. As a rule, we should not boast of mere 
bigness ; but the fact that in the city of New York, including, as it 
does, all sorts and conditions of men and women, so large a number 
of persons, many of them old, wend their way, and in many instances, 
climb toilsome flights of stairs to the halls of instruction, is an admi- 
rable sign of the times. What is the magic power that draws to these 
halls — some of them far from comfortable — no matter in what 
kind of weather, so many earnest listeners? The answer is that the 
common sense of our people is truly appreciative of the best that the 
teacher can give, and in these courses it has been the endeavor to give 
the people the best available from the staff of lecturers at our command. 

It can be safely said that the movement for adult education, popu- 
larly known as the free lectures, is no longer an experiment. It is 
recognized in the charter as an integral part of the educational system 
of the city of New York. Its righteous claim to be considered such 
is shown by the constant endeavors to systematically organize the 
instruction. In the first years of the lecture course, the lectures were 
not organized as consecutively as they are now. We know now defi- 
nitely what our aim is. A passenger on the elevated train in Boston, 
somewhat the worse for drink, was carried around the entire system 
twice, not knowing where to disembark. Finally, the conductor 
said to him : " At what station do you want to get off? " The man 
aroused himself sufficiently to say, " What stations have you got? " 
Some years ago we were in doubt as to what our stations were. Now 
we have found our definite station — the definite purpose is to arrange 
these courses of lectures systematically to stimulate study, to cooper- 
ate with the public library, to encourage discussion; or, in other 

1 This address was delivered in 1905. For current statistics the student should consult 
the latest reports of the free lecture system. The principles here stated are as true now as 



ever. 



lOO SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

words, to bring the best teachers to bear upon this problem of the 
diffusion of culture among all citizens of a great city. Has this been 
done during the past year? One hundred and seventy courses of 
lectures, averaging six in each course, have been given, and the ma- 
jority of these courses by professors and teachers in our universities. 
One course of thirty lectures on nineteenth century English Litera- 
ture was given in a series lasting through the whole winter at one 
center, and the audience at each lecture averaged over 300. An 
examination was held and certificates were awarded to those who had 
attended at least twenty-seven of these lectures and who had success- 
fully passed two written examinations which were held. Thirty-one 
received certificates, approved by Columbia University. Thus we 
have university extension realized on a large scale. 

Thirty courses of lectures, consisting of five each, on " First Aid to 
the Injured," were given, examinations held and certificates awarded. 
To cooperate with the Department of Health, lectures on "The Pre- 
vention of Tuberculosis " were given in thirty-four places by reputable 
physicans, so that the themes which have instructed our audiences 
have been first the facts concerning the body and its care. 

Then the great phenomena of natural science have been explained 
— how steam was harnessed, how electricity is put to man's service, 
how the stars move in their courses. The whole world has been 
traveled over. Starting from our own city, the natural beauties of 
our own land have been described. Every country on the globe, 
from Greenland's icy mountains to India's coral strand, has been 
described by travelers who have visited these lands and have braved 
the dangers for our instruction. The development of citizenship 
has been fostered by scholarly treatment of the great epochs in our 
national history and the study of the makers of our national life ; and, 
to give a wider outlook, epochs in general history have been boldly 
outlined, for the history of the world is one great drama, and all its 
acts form part of one stupendous whole. Music, painting and other 
forms of art have been presented to the people, and courses on the 
education and training of children, as well as municipal progress, 
have been listened to by eager auditors ; for the purpose, as stated 
before, is to aid the joy and value of human life by diffusing among 
the mass of our citizens what some one has well called " race knowl- 
edge." 

The level of our citizenship depends upon the quantity of race 
knowledge which is made a concrete part of our social environment. 

It has been my privilege to receive, year by year, appreciative 
letters from both lecturers and auditors — the lecturer emphasizing 
the value of the experience in its growth and power, the auditors 
telling of the inspiration and stimulus derived from the lectures. 



SOCIAL NEED FOR CONTINUING EDUCATION OF ADULT loi 

A college graduate writes : 

" I believe there are many who think the lectures are only for those 
who have not had an opportunity to receive a high school or college 
education. The more intelligent the hearer, the greater the benefit 
derived. As to the benefits received from these courses, they are too 
numerous to mention, but I can gladly say that through my knowl- 
edge of ' First Aid to the Injured,' I have been of use to different 
persons from taking a cinder out of the eye of an elevated conductor 
to fixing up the sprain of a friend." 

Another writes : — 

" The majority of us know nothing but paved streets and brick 
walls. Nature stands at our doors, but we know nothing of her. 
These lectures give us instruction and mental exhilaration." 

And yet another auditor writes : — 

" I shall try my best to pass the examination (referring to a course 
on 'First Aid to the Injured'), although I am very absent-minded 
and nervous, having been a victim of typhoid fever a year ago and a 
remittent fever last fall. If I fail, I shall have at least tried my best 
and learned something to my advantage. I cannot say anything in 
favor of the Monday lectures, as my husband only attends them, be- 
cause I have three small children who cannot be left alone. I am 
glad my beloved spouse stays with them Thursday evenings to grant 
me the benefit of the lectures." 

The fact has been established that the people will go to school ; 
so that there are now two kinds of lectures — one for larger audiences, 
where subjects which appeal to large bodies can be treated ; and the 
other more special in its nature, where those who come are only inter- 
ested in a particular subject. The entire winter at some centers is 
devoted to but one or two subjects, and a definite course of reading and 
study follow. The division satisfies those who are already prepared 
for higher study and those who are just entering upon an appreciation 
of intellectual pleasure, for, believing as I do in the educational 
purpose and value of these courses, I also believe to an extent in their 
wisdom from the recreative side. The character of our pleasure is 
an index of our culture and our civilization. A nation whose favorite 
pastime is the bullfight is hardly on a plane with one that finds pleas- 
ure in the lecture lyceum ; so, if we can make our pleasure consist 
in the delights of art, in the beauties of literature, in the pursuit of 
science, or in the cultivation of music, are we not doing a real public 
service? Is not refinement, too, one of the ends for which we are 
aiming — not alone knowledge, but culture ; not alone light, but 
sweetness? And if we can turn our youth from the street corners to 
the school playground, transformed into a temple of learning, are we 
not helping to attain a desirable end ? 



I02 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

To some, these lectures have proved the only bright spot in a cheer- 
less existence ; others have been greatly refined through their influ- 
ence. After the lecture, many have crowded around the lecturer for 
further information, and upon reaching their homes, their conversa- 
tion has not been the tittle-tattle of everyday life, but about Shake- 
speare, Lincoln, the Arctic explorations, or the wonders of electricity. 
Many a mind has been stirred from its lethargy; and the lecturers 
have appealed to all classes of our citizens — the dweller in the tene- 
ment house or in the single house — for their message is to rich and to 
poor, man and woman, young and old, educated and uneducated. 
They show parents what a valuable thing education is, and the parents 
become attached to the school. They are social solvents, for the 
school is a safeguard of democracy, and at these lectures the laborer 
and employer, the professional man and the mechanic, attend. More 
has been done, for these lectures have been, to many, voices in the 
wilderness giving aid and comfort to many an aspiring soul and 
revealing to it its own strength, for many a poorly dressed man may 
have in him the germ of gifts which it would be well to add to the 
treasury of noble deeds. 

Summarizing again the aims of this movement, I would say that it 
is to afford to as many as possible the fruits of a liberal education, 
to make education a Hfe purpose, to apply the best methods of study 
to the problems of daily life, so as to create in our citizens a sound 
public opinion. When it is remembered that a mihion and a half men, 
according to the last census, of voting age were unable to read or write 
— that is, 1 1 per cent of the total number — it will be seen how im- 
portant the continuance of education is in a country whose government 
is determined by popular suffrage. And the greater portion of this 
illiteracy, let it be borne in mind, is in persons not of foreign parentage. 
The percentage of illiteracy among the foreign born is large, but among 
the native born of foreign parents it is smaller than among those of 
native parents. And this leads me to refer to the addition to our 
course in the shape of lectures in foreign languages to recently arrived 
immigrants. Nothing is more illustrative of the hospitality of our 
city than is this provision for acquaintanceship of future citizens, at 
the earliest possible moment, with the history of our institutions and 
the laws of civic well-being. 

The lectures are illustrated largely by the stereopticon, and this 
teaching of the eye has proven a most effective means of popularizing 
knowledge and retaining interest. Mere speech is no longer suffi- 
cient. The actual thing talked about must be shown on the screen. 
In scientific lectures, abundant experiments accompany the lecture, 
and the interest in scientific subjects can be illustrated by the fact 
that a course of eight lectures on " Heat as a Mode of Motion " in the 



SOCIAL NEED FOR CONTINUING EDUCATION OF ADULT 103 

great hall of Cooper Institute attracted an average audience of 1000 at 
each lecture. The lecture was followed by a quiz class, which lasted 
about an hour, and serious reading of such a book as Tyndall's " Heat 
as a Mode of Motion " was done by many of the auditors. 

Special attention is paid to instruction in American history and 
civics. On the birthdays of great Americans, in several portions of 
the city, the lives of these eminent characters form the subject of the 
lecture ; and during the past two years, in order to help in the assimi- 
lation of the newly arrived foreigner, lectures have been given in Italian 
and Yiddish on subjects that relate to sanitation and to the prepara- 
tion for American citizenship. 

The lecturers are recruited from the very best educators available. 
Our lecturers include the professors in our universities, the traveler, 
the journalist, the physician, the clergyman — and the fine spirit that 
characterizes our teaching force is worthy of emulation by all who 
are engaged in the noble work of education. It seems to me that no 
more honorable, and perhaps more difificult, task can be placed in the 
hands of a teacher who stands before audiences such as gather in our 
schoolhouses, for I know of no more sacred task than that of a teacher 
in a democracy, organizing as he does public opinion, directing read- 
ing, and inspiring for the higher life. The ideal teacher in a scheme of 
adult education, as some one says, must combine with the university 
professor's knowledge the novelist's versatility, the actor's elocution, 
the poet's imagination, and the preacher's fervor. 

Adult education as practiced in New York combines the best ele- 
ments of university extension and reaches the working people of the 
city. It has been the means of realizing the belief that scholarship 
must go hand in hand with service, and that the duty of the university 
to the city and the state is to lift our citizens to higher ideals. 

The influence of the lectures on general reading is illustrated by the 
report from one public library, concerning which the librarian writes : 

"The register shows an increase of 321 members during the course 
of the winter lecture season, of which a large portion consisted of 
those who had first heard of the library in the lecture hall. As a 
result, the people select their books with more care and forethought, 
having something definite to ask for, and on a subject in which their 
interest was aroused. A stimulus was created which led to more 
intelligent reading. You cannot expect all the people to appreciate 
and thoroughly enjoy a book until they know something akin to that 
subject and until their enthusiasm has been aroused." 

This is what I feel the lectures are doing for those who have not had a 
school course. The platform library forms an integral part of the 
lecture movement. As the libraries do not possess sufficient duplicate 
copies of any particular book, there are loaned out to those who attend 



I04 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

the courses, the leading books that are mentioned on the syllabus 
which is distributed with each course of lectures ; and the circulation 
of these books bespeaks the intelligent pursuit of the subject in 
hand. 

The movement of adult education not alone gives a new interpre- 
tation to education and the teacher, but a new type of schoolhouse 
which is to be open not only for a few hours daily, but at all times, 
and to be a place not alone for the instruction of children, but for the 
education of men and women ; so that there should be in each modern 
schoolhouse proper auditorium, with seats for adults and equipped 
with apparatus for scientific lectures, and for proper means of illus- 
tration. 

There should be no necessity for citizens, desiring to add to their 
culture, sitting in the low and ill- ventilated and unattractive school- 
room, or climbing sixty or seventy steps to sit upon a bench intended 
only for children. So a change in the construction of our schoolhouses 
may result from the expansion of this use. The newer schoolhouses 
built in our city contain such auditoriums ; and the extension of the 
school for these varied purposes makes the schoolhouse what it 
really should be — a social center — the real, democratic neighbor- 
hood house. That we are approaching such an ideal may be inferred 
from the fact that some of the schoolhouses in the crowded districts 
are open on Sunday. If the museum and the library are open on 
Sunday, why should not the schoolhouse, too, be open on Sunday, 
and in its main hall the people be gathered to listen to an uplifting 
address of a biographical, historical, or ethical nature ? 

It seems to me that the tendency should be to include in public 
education all that is best in the movements of philanthropy which 
mark our time. The interest of churches and philanthropic societies 
in our work is shown by the constant offering of church and other halls 
gratuitously for Board of Education public lectures. The church 
surely approves of spreading the gospel, " Let there be light." 

The unification of a great city is furthered by a system of public 
lectures. It is not brought about by the mere building of bridges. 
In a great city, neighborliness does not often prevail, but a community 
of ideas brings people together ; and when last year it was resolved 
to celebrate the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the founding 
of New York as a municipality, it was celebrated not by a military 
parade or a monster banquet, but by a series of illustrated lectures and 
open air exhibitions of the great development of New York City. 
About one hundred such lectures were given, illustrating the history 
of the city of New York — thirty of them in public parks. As New 
York is the pioneer in this work of adult education, so is she the 
pioneer in this peaceful method of civic celebration. 



SOCIAL NEED FOR CONTINUING EDUCATION OF ADULT 105 

The provision for adult education emphasizes the fact which now, 
more than ever, should be emphasized in our American life — that 
men are not old at forty. Dr. Osier, deserving of so much credit, has 
certainly done a great public service in awakening discussion on the 
question of the period of man's mental decay. What is needed in 
America, it seems to me, is more, not less, reverence for age ; more, not 
less, recognition of the fact that though there may be a climax to 
man's bodily development in early manhood, his mental develop- 
ment should be continuous, and as President EHot says, " His last 
years should be his best." Scientists tell us that the brain of a man 
between fifty and sixty is at its best, and even at sixty the acqui- 
sition of knowledge may well be begun. 

The history of the world of the past and the present day is full of 
illustrations of the activities of old men, and no one has put it better 
than Longfellow in these words : — 

" But why, you ask me, should this tale be told. 
To men grown old, or who are growing old ? 
It is too late ! Ah, nothing is too late 
Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate. 
Cato learned Greek at eighty, Sophocles 
Wrote his grand CEdipus, and Simonides 
Bore off the prize of verse from his compeers, 
When each had numbered more than fourscore years ; 
And Theophrastus, at fourscore and ten. 
Had begun his ' Characters of Men' 
Chaucer, at Woodstock, with the nightingales, 
At sixty wrote the ' Canterbury Tales,' 
Goethe, at Weimar, toUing to the last. 
Completed ' Faust ' when eighty years were past. 
These are indeed exceptions, but they show 
How far the gulf stream of our youth may flow 
Into the arctic regions of our lives. 
Where little else than life survives." 

Smnming up the value of this movement, it may be said that it 
brings culture in touch with the uncultured, it gives a new meaning 
to the uses and possibilities of the schoolhouse, and not alone adds 
to the stock of information of the people, but furnishes them with 
ideas. In these days of shorter hours and larger opportunities, the 
toilers will find in adult education the stimulus for the gratifica- 
tion of their intellectual desires, and a larger world is given them in 
which to live. The best characters in literature will influence them, 
their daily labor will be dignified, new joy will come into their 
lives from this association with science, literature and art; and 
they will find that true happiness does not come from wealth, but 



io6 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

from sympathy with the best things in art, and with the love of 
nature. 

The pubHc school is becoming recognized throughout our country 
as the most eflScient form of training for intelligent democracy. 
Despite the criticisms of the public school, the constant trend of the 
morale of the American people is upward, due to its influence, and if 
the public school has failed to become the absolute panacea that the 
idealists would desire, is it not largely because of the failure to provide 
for education sufficient funds to bring about the desired results? 
The public school should occupy the most beautiful building in the 
town, and the teachers in the public school should be men and women 
of the finest intelligence, the highest culture, and occupy the highest 
social position. When such conditions prevail, when popular appre- 
ciation indicates that the highest service that one can perform is in the 
service of teaching, then indeed will the public school become what 
the vision of the dreamer would have it realize. The public school 
building of the present day, architecturally beautiful, with improved 
sanitation, with provision for physical development, and with its 
auditorium for lectures, is in a fair way toward bringing near that 
ideal, so well described in the words of Mr. Page : " We must make the 
public school everybody's house before we can establish the right 
notion of education. It unites the people and they look upon it as 
the training place in which everybody is interested, just as they look 
upon the courthouse as the place where every man is on the same 
footing." 

We who engage in this work of education are imperialists, but our 
empire is the empire of the mind; for we believe it is the mind that 
makes the body rich. We are expansionists, but we desire the ex- 
pansion of opportunity for all men to Uve the true life. We believe 
in the open door ; but it is the open door to the schoolhouse to which 
we refer. We should make it not alone a nursery for children, but a 
place of intelligent resort for men and women ; and we are democrats 
in believing with our honored president that though education never 
saved a nation, no nation can be saved without it. 

From a lecture by Henry M. Leipziger, published in The Addresses of the Lewis 
and Clark Educational Congress, Portland, 1905. 

Comment on Evening Lectures for Adults 

The preceding quotation from Dr. Leipziger, the organizer and 
supervisor of the public lectures given to adults in New York City 
under the auspices of the Board of Education, brings out clearly the 
social significance of such work. It is an outgrowth of the larger con- 



SOCIAL NEED FOR CONTINUING EDUCATION OF ADULT 107 

ception of the function of education in the modern community. More 
and more do we realize that in a truly progressive community it is 
necessary for education to extend beyond childhood and youth into 
the years of maturity. It is too much to expect that all adults shall 
endeavor to keep alive and growing mentally, but it is at least safe to 
say that the more there are of that type the better it is for the com- 
munity. 

The plan of evening lectures which has proved so successful in New 
York has been tried with variations in other cities, sometimes under 
the direction of the school authorities, sometimes at the instance of 
outside public spirited organizations. We are warranted in believing 
moreover that what has proved to be of such public interest in the 
large cities would be equally interesting and valuable for smaller 
centers of population and even for rural communities. Whether 
this particular plan is followed or not, some ways and means must be 
devised for greatly extending the opportunities for education. In no 
other way can those who were trained in the schools of twenty or 
thirty years ago keep pace with the present-day rate of progress. To 
give only one illustration, modern sanitary science has brought to 
light a multitude of facts bearing vitally upon every community. 
Shall these facts regarding personal hygiene, care of the sick, drinking 
water, pure foods, be taught only to children? The general social 
body will then receive very little benefit, for the children can 
do little toward applying these facts without some sympathetic and 
intelligent cooperation on the part of the adult community. The 
most effective method is to teach the adults directly, and in this way 
immediate effects may be produced. It is probably true that there 
is no means by which educational agencies may contribute more 
rapidly to social progress than through some such system of adult 
instruction in the advance of science and in social amelioration. It 
is significant to note that the whole plan of adult instruction indi- 
cates a rather radical rejection of the old educational theory that 
only children are educable. Education may, and in modern times 
must, for the majority of the adults, continue throughout life. 

In the smaller community one of the difficult problems is that of 
securing interesting and instructive lectures. This is not, however, 
as difficult as it may seem at first sight. The resources available to 



io8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

even the smallest community are rapidly increasing in number. One 
who would study some particular and apparently unpromising situa- 
tion in the light of the suggestions of Perry ^ will no doubt be surprised 
at the unused and inexpensive resources which lie at hand. 

TOPICS FOR STUDY AND DISCUSSION 

1. Describe the lecture systems of Cleveland, Chicago, Milwaukee, 
Boston, Philadelphia. See Perry, Hyre, and the school reports of 
these and other cities. 

2. Examine the various resources mentioned by Perry (Wider Use, 
p. 385) with reference to developing a system of adult instruction in 
a community with which you are familiar. Describe the community 
fully as to its social and industrial characteristics and the needs grow- 
ing out of them. 

3. Summarize fully the social need of continuing instruction 
through the adult years. 

4. Is it a legitimate extension of the function of public education ? 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Adams, Herbert B. "Educational extension in the United States," 
Report of the U. S. Commissioner of Education, 1899-1900. Vol. 
1 : 330-334. 

Clark, E. P. "The free lecture movement," Nation, 74 : 363. 1902. 

Hyre, S. E. "PubUc lectures. The Cleveland Plan," N. S. S. E., 
Pt. I, p. 17. 

Iles, G. "How the great lecture system works," W. W., 5:3327. 
1903. 

Leipziger, H. M. "Free lectures," Critic, 28:329. A history of 
the movement. 

Report of Public Lectures, to the N. Y. Board of Education. 

1889 to date. Especially for the year 1909-19 10. 

Matthews, F. "How New York educates its citizens," W. W., 
4: 2211-2216. 

Perry, C. A. Wider Use of the School Plant. VII, "Public lectures 
and entertainments." 

PubUc Lectures in "Educational Progress in 1908," S. Rev., 17: 298. 

* Wider Use of the School Plant, pp. 385-301. 



CHAPTER VII 

PLAYGROUND EXTENSION, AN ASPECT OF THE LARGER MEANING OF 

EDUCATION 

Why have Playgrounds at Public Expense? 

Every city and town should provide public playgrounds and gym- 
nasiums with proper supervision for rational forms of exercise as 
well as for health education apart from exercise. But each family 
should also have its private playground and gymnasium in some form. 
Neither is a satisfactory substitute for the other. 

A man and a woman, a boy and a girl, all require rational physical 
activity as long as they live. They require motor training as they 
require mental training or manual training. There is just as much 
reason for a city not to provide schools for its children as for it not 
to provide means for physical training and recreation — and no more. 

A properly conducted playground, a properly conducted gym- 
nasium, indoors and outdoors, is a general education center ; a center 
for moral and ethical training, a place to teach the art of living with- 
out depending on " graft," a feat that seems almost impossible to too 
many of the next generation of men now growing up in crowded centers 
of population. A city that does not provide suitable places for its 
citizens and coming citizens to care for their physical selves will be 
called upon to provide additional police stations, jails and hospitals. 
Prevention is very much cheaper than cure, both for the patient and 
the doctor. 

The correct idea of a playground takes in much more than a vacant 
lot where boys play baseball, or even a fenced in and apparatus 
supplied recreation center. A proper playground system provides 
for the physical welfare of all ages and sexes and colors and nationah- 
ties in one establishment or in several separate locations. The young 
women need rational exercise and pure play — especially real relaxa- 
tion from restraint of all kinds — fully as much as the young men. 
The elderly people need forms of the same kind of attention as well 
as the small children. 

If there are combined in one place interests for all ages, it may be 
more easily a social center with fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, 

109 



no SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

and aunts and cousins also, assembling with a common purpose but 
still having individual interests. 

Children need a place for systematic exercise, be it called play or 
" having fun " or physical training. Play may be as instinctive to 
normal children as to normal puppies, but the children benefit by 
intelligent supervision and wise guidance. The knowing supervisor 
of child play will see that proper apparatus, proper tools, are used 
and that the children are led toward the better purposes of recreation 
rather than toward the demoralizing features of unguided, meaning- 
less play. This can be best done in a place equipped and set apart 
for the purpose. We teach general education in schoolhouses, and 
naturally the playground is the best place to teach play. 

The ordinances of a large New England city contain this provision, 
which sums up in a few words the conditions in most cities of the 
country : — 

" No persons shall play at ball or throw stones or other missiles, 
or slide on any sled or machine, or in any vehicle whatever, for amuse- 
ment, in any of the streets or highways." 

Toronto, Canada, has a Queen's Park. A generation ago it was a 
recreation spot of much value and used by the city's children freely. 
Now there is a sign "Ball playing strictly prohibited." As if this 
was not enough restriction, an order was passed last winter prohibit- 
ing coasting down the hills. 

As a good proportion of the vacant lots have " no trespassing " 
signs, where are the boys to play, if their fathers do not happen to 
own a piece of empty land, without being law breakers? The only 
answer is that cities must provide artificial playgrounds to give the 
children rights taken from them by modern municipal conditions. 

In a properly equipped and supervised playground the natural 
rights of boys and girls are protected. 

As has so often been said, most boys who break laws, who stone 
the neighbors' cats, who see how few whole panes of glass they can 
leave in the unused factory building, whose idea of manliness is asso- 
ciated with the corner tough who once licked the gamest "cop" on 
the force ; these boys are usually less to blame than are the authori- 
ties wko provide no outlet for natural strenuousness, but instead 
attempt to bottle up the energy. As well tie down tight the cover 
on a coffee tank full of boiHng drink and not expect an explosion ! 

To be sure the parents are often, at the bottom of affairs, the 
responsible parties for much so-called lawlessness of children, but 
that is a subject not to be treated in this book. 

To quote : " Give a boy a chance at football, basket ball, hockey 
or 'the game'; give him an opportunity to perform diflficult and 
dangerous feats on a horizontal bar, on the flying rings, or from a 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION iii 

diving board; and the policeman will need a gymnasium himself to 
keep his weight down. This is not theory, but is the testimony you 
will get from any policeman or schoolmaster who has been in a neigh- 
borhood before and after a playground was started there." 

So much for the boys of the " privileged class," as a Harvard pro- 
fessor modernly calls them, or of the " submerged tenth," as the older 
sociologists styled them. 

As a matter of fact children of rich or wealthy parents, of the 
socially elevated classes, need all the education and training and 
good effects to be had from properly directed play and physical 
training. Not all the surplus energy of these boys goes toward the 
idea of stoning cats and breaking windows, but they get the same 
satisfactory results in other ways. We need to remember, whether 
we like to or not, that natural characteristics in the different strata 
of society do not really and truly differ so very much. The experi- 
ment of providing a playground especially for children of the so-called 
upper classes has been tried and proved successful. 

Such a place, restricted to a special class of a community, ought 
not to be supported by public funds, as conditions are at present. 
So it need not be referred to here except to impress the fact that all 
sorts and conditions of people and children will use playgrounds if 
adapted to their interests and needs. . . . 

" The demand for playgrounds has increased and more disposition 
to establish them has been shown among officials. Ten years ago a 
public playground could only have been thought of as the gift of 
some wealthy philanthropist. Now their place in the public expendi- 
ture is as well established as is that of parks, and the need for them 
is almost as well recognized as that of schools. 

" It is within the memory of the present generation that the appli- 
cation of prevention to the problem of criminal administration began. 
Reformatories have grown less and less like prisons in their adminis- 
tration, and the machinery for keeping people out of jail is now 
thoroughly well established through our children's courts and the 
parole system for first offenders. 

" But that is only one side of the problem. The state supports 
not only prisons, but almshouses and hospitals. Keeping recruits 
out of the latter is just as much a problem of practical administration 
as keeping people out of prison. 

" The first preventive step is to have people born and raised 
with sound bodies. Over their birth neither science nor the state as 
yet exercises any control. But the rearing of a city-born population 
so as to reduce the percentage of criminals, paupers and diseased is 
an intensely practical matter. Fresh air and occupation are the first 
requisites for sound growth, and the playgrounds minister directly to 



112 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

that need. Play is as necessary to a child as food, and in a city 
where every square foot of ground has a market value a place to 
play must be supplied by the city, because otherwise the children 
convert streets into playgrounds, to their own harm and the annoy- 
ance and danger of adults who use the streets for business or pleasure. 

" The time will come when the city will give to every child who 
seeks it the rudiments at least of hand training, because it is cheaper to 
help him grow up as a thrifty citizen than to have him and his family 
hanging upon the skirts of charitable societies and on the edge of 
the poor house. But the need for manual training is less pressing 
than that for playgrounds." . . . 

Very few movements, small or great, will go on for long or accom- 
plish much without a leader. Some one with recognized authority to 
be used when necessary is essential to most, if not all, undertakings 
even in this democratic America. Just so, a game will '* go " better 
if there is an umpire or a captain or a director at hand. . . . 

" The play organizer is the most important element in a successful 
playground. Space there must be. A good equipment serves as a 
sort of an advertisement to draw the children to the ground, and has 
a certain usefulness of its own, but the attendance of the children 
and the good results obtained will depend one hundred fold more 
on the ability to interest and organize the children than it will on the 
best equipment. Vacant spaces or equipped playgrounds without a 
play organizer become seats of disorder and noise against which the 
whole neighborhood soon rebels. They fail utterly to secure organi- 
zation in games and sports, to train through competition, and coopera- 
tion in the spirit of sportsmanship. They have for children only a 
very low athletic value. The organized playground soon comes to 
stand for all the virtues the play leader himself represents. Measured 
merely by the attendance of the children, it is the only successful 
playground, for a good director will double and treble the attendance 
over that of a mere caretaker." 

The title " directed play " is a misnomer and has been the source 
of a great many absurd criticisms of the playground movement. It has 
suggested to the uninitiated that the playground leaders stand about 
and order the children to play this game or that, and that in general 
the directed playground is a place where there is no liberty or spon- 
taneity on the part of the children, that it is an assault on the last 
stronghold of child liberty and self-expression, and that it must in- 
evitably result in making him a mere automaton. 

In actual fact, the work of the play leader has almost nothing in 
common with this idea of direction. The successful play leader is 
the one who organizes the children into live teams around various 
activities and interests ; he is the person who can keep a number of 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION 113 

different groups of children interested and busy at the same time; 
he is to a considerable extent a leader ; he is to a considerable extent 
a teacher of new games, but his prime function is, I conceive, that of an 
organizer. He is not at all a director in the sense in which it is com- 
monly understood. 

The remark that organized play takes away the originality of the 
children seems to me quite contrary to the teaching both of modern 
psychology and of experience. The children left to themselves with 
one or two games seldom invent new ones, whilst children who have 
learned, through the playground or any other means, a considerable 
number of games, are constantly modifying old ones or starting ones 
that are practically new. . . . 

An idea of the growth and scope of the playground movement may 
be had from these general facts covering some phases of development 
in America. 

The amount of money spent and appropriated for playgrounds and 
accompanying features during six months ending May, 1908, was 
estimated at $6,000,000. In the eleven years ending 1909, covering 
practically all the present period of rapid development, about 
$55,000,000 has been used in the same way. Included in this sum is 
over $15,000,000 applied to the equipment and general conduct of 
Chicago recreation centers, $750,000 for San Francisco recreation 
centers, and $15,000,000 for New York City athletic fields, play- 
grounds, etc. These figures are not exact, but approximately so. 
They are quoted to figuratively indicate the size of the work going 
on. 

New York City employs over 1000 teachers in various forms of 
summer playground and recreation center work. In twenty-four 
cities in 1905 there were 87 playgrounds ; in 1907 in the same cities 
there were 169, an increase of 94 per cent in two years. In the same 
cities in 1905 there were 73 park and municipal playgrounds ; in 1907 
there were 108, an increase of 48 per cent in two years. In 1905 
there were 160 playgrounds of all kinds ; in 1907 there were 247, an 
increase of 54 per cent, in two years. These figures do not represent 
all the playgrounds in the country, but those in 24 cities from which 
statistics were gathered. 

During the years 1906-1909 more than thirty cities, in which play- 
grounds had been previously maintained by private philanthropy, 
made appropriations for their conduct or created departments for 
direct municipal control and administration. This is valuable evi- 
dence of growing recognition. 

In over two hundred cities playgrounds are now conducted, two- 
thirds of them being supported from public funds. The number has 
been doubled in two years. 



114 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

There have been isolated instances of reduced appropriations, just 
as appropriations are occasionally unreasonably reduced for public 
education, usually for purely local reasons. Playgrounds of a right 
type are equally essential with schools ; both may suffer from legisla- 
tive or political shortsightedness here and there, but the general trend 
is in all respects rapidly progressive. In the early development of 
playgrounds there is likely to be — has been — over-enthusiasm and 
wrong emphasis on some particular points, but usually this is due to 
misconception or misdirected zeal rather than to any reason justify- 
ing withdrawal of support. 

The tendency seems to be for public support with money and 
official interest to be given as willingly as has ever occurred with a 
movement for the benefit of the people. Those who hold the munici- 
pal purse strings may here and there for a time fail to appreciate 
the value of prevention and decline to grasp the proven fact that such 
methods as are provided in recreation centers are true educational 
and social preventives of powerful influence. 

History tells us that the first " theorists " who advocated free 
public schools in the United States had fully as much trouble to 
educate official minds and get public financial support as the play- 
ground advocates are having now. History, studied intelligently, 
is a wonderful teacher and a great encourager of patient waiting; 
not idle waiting, but busy working, propagandism and continued 
practical results for proof. 

The development of the playground movement is proceeding at 
a very satisfactory rate in all ways. Mistakes of the early period are 
being made good and there are increasing indications that the work 
is being taken seriously — that it has mostly passed the " fad " 
stage and become a staple requirement. 

State laws requiring, authorizing, or at least permitting and thus 
officially encouraging, playgrounds, and other means for rational 
recreation and physical training, have been passed by several state 
legislatures. New Jersey and Ohio have " enabling acts." Minne- 
sota authorizes bond issues for acquiring playground sites. Several 
progressive state legislatures have the matter under consideration. 

Probably the state action with deepest significance to date is the 
development of a series of public recreation centers in fortj^ cities 
and towns that have adopted the compulsory Massachusetts Play- 
ground Act of 1908. This law required that each city and town of 
ten thousand population accepting the act should " maintain at least 
one public playground conveniently located and of suitable size and 
equipment for the recreation and physical education of the minors 
of such city or town." At local elections in December, 190S, and 
March and April, 1909, the question of accepting the act was voted 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION 115 

upon in forty-two cities and towns of the state ; forty communities 
approved the new law, two disapproved. The total popular vote 
was 154,495 in favor and 33,886 opposed. 

Extracts from American Playgroutids, E. B. Mero, The Dale Association, Boston, 
1909. Courtesy of the author. 

The Playgrounds of Pittsburgh 

The development of the playground system of Pittsburgh has been 
unique in its combination of the playground and vacation school 
ideals. Further, it has been up to the present time a successful 
experiment in cooperation between the city administration and an 
unofl&cial body. Pittsburgh is not yet among the most favored cities 
in either the number or material equipment of her playgrounds, but 
her careful classification and intensive work among the children for 
the past twelve years have been thought worthy of study by cities 
having much more extensive systems ; and, more, local public senti- 
ment has developed until the time is ripe for a comprehensive city 
plan. 

Pittsburgh had been a typical American industrial city in her 
single-hearted devotion to business and her apparent indifference to 
any pleasures other than the satisfaction of success. Her almost 
unlimited natural resources, which might have given the people a 
prosperous sense of leisure, her three noble rivers, her coal and iron 
and oil, were only serving to make the " workshop of the world " a 
greater workshop — not to make it either beautiful or livable. From 
the hilltops one might see the outlines of the superb setting of this 
gate of the west, but at closer range the beauty was lost in narrow 
streets, incongruous, haphazard buildings and smoke. Characteris- 
tically also the city which had forgotten the meaning and the uses of 
leisure had forgotten the use and value of recreation. Perhaps the 
Scotch-Irish settlers of an earlier day "took their pleasures sadly," 
like our English cousins, but it is rather surprising that the large 
numbers of play-loving Germans should have done so little to provide 
wholesome amusement for their families. 

Twelve years ago Pittsburgh was in as great need of play and play- 
grounds as it could well be. No town of its size in the country had so 
neglected to provide for public parks, of which there were only two 
within the limits of the old city. 

In all the mill and tenement districts of Pittsburgh, in the river 
wards, the " Hill District," the South Side, West End or Hazelwood 
there was not a foot of land for park or common except a little thirty- 
foot wide strip of grass on Second Avenue near the Courthouse, 
and on this the adjoining property holders were looking with covetous 



Ii6 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

eyes. How could we think of parks and playgrounds when all the 
land and even the river banks were needed for business? Every- 
where the bluffs rose at a very short distance from the rivers, crowd- 
ing mills and mill workers into uncomfortably close companionship. 
The small area of level ground down town had been built over many 
years before congestion began, and the old, one-family houses were 
overflowing with a dense population for which they had neither 
enough rooms nor proper sanitary facilities. 

The tiny yards were often filled with hovels or sheds used as dwell- 
ings, and those remaining were filled with rubbish even as they are 
to-day. The earlier residents of these neighborhoods had either 
moved away or had been overwhelmed by successive waves of for- 
eigners, an alien people with lower standards of living, who had 
thronged through the city's gates and settled down upon the most 
crowded districts. The situation was made much worse by the high 
rents, which caused many families occupying only two or three rooms 
to take as boarders the unmarried mill operatives, whose alternate 
night and day shifts compelled them to live near their work. Some 
thousands of beds in these small and ill-ventilated quarters were 
occupied day and night, creating for the children of the family con- 
ditions supposed to belong only to abject poverty. Play in a steam- 
ing kitchen or home workshop is difficult and unwelcome, but play 
in the bedroom of sleeping boarders is impossible. 

These practically homeless children had no yards. Their only 
playground was the street, with its narrow sidewalks and the space 
between the curbs filled with a constantly increasing traffic. The 
steep hillsides above gave so insecure a foundation to the rickety 
frame houses attached to them that these houses were often built 
into the hill, so that the rear of the lower stories were without light 
and air. They had not a foot of yard space for play nor even the 
facilities of modern school buildings in these older wards. The 
schools had neither gymnasiums nor assembly hall, and their inade- 
quate yards were almost never used, but the children of these dis- 
tricts had little desire to play. The nature of the mill population, 
recruited yearly from the oppressed and impoverished peasants of 
southeastern Europe, had much to do with the lack of play spirit. 
These people seemingly are not rich in play traditions and customs 
or they leave behind them those which they had at home. We un- 
consciously assume that all children play because they are children, 
forgetting that play is a social inheritance. Children, whether savage 
or civilized, learn their games from one another and from imitating 
and symbolizing adult life. Most of the essential facts about any 
civiHzation are revealed by its games, and in this light American 
children of to-day are seen to be poorer in imagination, ideality and 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION 117 

invention than their forefathers ; for they have lost many of the old 
games. But the children among the mills were usually of foreign 
parentage if not of foreign birth. Their new Americanism demanded 
complete forgetfulness of the old country and its ways. They must 
adopt the play traditions of their adopted country. But what sug- 
gestion of play could they find in a city of iron, whose monster ma- 
chinery rested neither day nor night? Their surroundings were ugly 
and forlorn. In many places green things could not grow because of 
the pall of smoke which swept heavily down, clouding the sunlight, 
and leaving a deposit of grime on everything, including the children. 
If the imagination is fed by sense impressions, these children could 
have httle idea of life other than mere existence for the sake of work. 
Without playground or play traditions or imagination or vitality, we 
found that these children literally did not know how to play. 

In 1896, when the Civic Club recently formed was looking for 
work, it saw the yardless, forlorn homes of these children and the 
crowded streets, and determined to open the school yards as play- 
grounds. It provided a few swings, toys and sand, and by a fortunate 
mistake put two kindergarteners in charge instead of one. In order 
to keep the teachers busy the visiting committee suggested that a 
little program be arranged, dividing the time between stories, songs, 
directed games and free play for the different groups of children. 
The first playground was in a ward settled by middle class people, 
and this plan worked smoothly enough, though the children needed 
more assistance in play than might have been expected. Then the 
committee entered two mill neighborhoods and met the real diffi- 
culty. Never having lived next to a mill and always having had a 
yard and a doorstep of their own, they could not understand it. 
That children should not know how to play was most astonishing. 
The committee could not believe it. Some of them do not believe it 
now. They think that the children played while they were not 
looking. But the trained and experienced teachers soon discovered 
the spiritual starvation of their charges and set themselves imme- 
diately to do intensive work. The morning program began with a 
march around the yard, led by a drummer boy in the full pride of his 
noise. Children came running from all directions. They sang and 
saluted the flag and then were divided into groups for games and free 
play with the sand and swings. About the middle of the session, 
toys were put away and all the children gathered in the kindergarten 
room while the teachers told stories or taught kindergarten games 
and songs with piano accompaniment. The trained teachers were 
usually assisted by volunteers from the committee who were not 
content to observe and criticise, but spent many mornings guarding 
swings, taking care of babies to relieve the little sister mothers, 



ii8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

telling stories and bringing flowers each week for distribution. After 
the second year, the Children's Department of the Carnegie Library 
sent trained story tellers to the playgrounds and also distributed 
books to the children, cooperating most effectively with the committee. 

North of Penn Avenue a playground was opened among colored 
children whose homes were indescribable and whose parents did not 
seem to care where their children were. An exception, however, was 
the mother of one small vagrant who came to the playground and 
carried him home in high indignation. He had been required to 
obey some simple rule, and she told the teachers that if her boy could 
not do as he pleased at school, she would keep him at home, where he 
could. After four years spent among the white children near here 
the kindergartner said, " They cannot plan games for themselves, 
but they now will continue to play after we have left them and you 
do not know how much that means in this place." Children on some 
playgrounds did not know why they were there. 

One of the pathological conditions observed among Pittsburgh 
children is their feverish, unchildlike desire for work — real work, 
not play. This was most intense in the " Hill District," where it was 
encouraged by the parents. Girls would not come to the play- 
ground unless bribed with sewing classes, and parents continually 
asked that children only six or seven be given sewing. They said, 
" It is no good to come to play." This is a region of tobacco factories 
and sweatshops in which, before the passage of the child labor law, 
children were put into the industrial treadmill very early. 

The boys were not so abnormally industrious as the girls. Some 
were rather too docile and quiet, but quite as often they had acquired 
the roving spirit of the tramp. The gang was found everywhere 
among the street-bred children, but it had developed in its most 
dangerous form in Soho, where, with the Irishman's genius for organi- 
zation, the older boys had formed a band of robbers that terrorized 
the neighborhood, while tiny fellows just out of the kindergarten 
were learning the rules of the game. After taking the names of 
more than a dozen of these one morning we accidentally learned that 
every name was an alias ! Among the West End mills, where the 
little girl wanted to ride in the patrol wagon, the boys were nearly 
all sneak thieves and apparently had no sense of the right of property. 
They stole things of no value to them, and stole from one another 
even when honest with the teacher. 

More than half of the Pittsburgh playgrounds have been in these 
sections where the children were subnormal and apparently tending 
to degeneracy because of their unfortunate surroundings, children 
whose love of beauty was rudimentary, whose imagination was so 
dwarfed that they never could think of anything to make or anything 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION 



119 



to play and whose knowledge of nature was so limited that only six 
out of forty knew the robin, while one child asked if a great owl were 
a humming bird. 

In the middle class neighborhoods on both sides of the rivers the 
children were bright, active and resourceful. It was a joy to be with 
them, for they knew " what to do next," and they were a great relief 
to our minds, for we did not want to consider the others the Pittsburgh 
type. 

After five years' experience the committee felt that the children 
on the playgrounds must be better classified and that more attention 
should be given to the older boys and girls. Much had been accom- 
plished for individual children. Little sister mothers had gone home 
with more childlike expressions on their faces. Real mothers and 
fathers had come with grateful words to the gates and many parents 
understood their own children better after seeing them happy and 
obedient in a child world. But the small yards, with their limited 
apparatus, were adapted only for the use of young children, and even 
these could not receive enough personal attention from the overtaxed 
kindergartners. The older girls would not or could not come unless 
given some definite training. Those who wandered in soon became 
restless, begging for sewing or some other form of occupation, while 
the boys made such a nuisance of themselves that they forfeited 
their privileges early in the season and only remained to menace the 
" kindergarten " from outside. The committee, therefore, instead of 
increasing the number of playgrounds, decided to extend the useful- 
ness of those already opened. In order that the older children might 
learn to play, suitable playfellows for them must be found and their 
desire for work must be met. After experimenting for two years 
with vacation school methods, the committee decided to combine the 
vacation school with the playground. The program for the yoimger 
children was unchanged. For those over eight years of age it was 
revised to include some form of industrial work, music, nature study 
and clay modeling, or drawing in colors. Part of the morning was 
always devoted to games. When twelve playground schools had been 
planned, the committee found itself quite unable to pay the salaries 
of enough teachers to take care of them. With a courage born of 
necessity the committee members then assumed the responsibilities 
of volunteer principals. The twelve small schools were opened with 
only two or three trained teachers at each center and the street boys 
came in like a flood. The general chairman's memories of that 
summer are very vivid — in one school a howling mob of colored 
boys surrounding the altogether helpless little teacher, who had 
offered to give them a nature lesson, in another a stampede of 
Polish, Italian and Irish boys from the drawing-room, where the 



I20 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

necessities of a limited schedule had sent them. Everywhere was an 
overpowering sense of the street. But every woman stood by her 
post to the end. By means of careful supervision, weekly teachers' 
conferences and sheer determination the summer was brought to a 
successful close. 

The development of these " schools of play " has been the work 
of the last five years. The endeavor has been to base each depart- 
ment on a normal play instinct and to keep them spontaneous, child- 
like and joyous, without strain and without self-consciousness. In 
the " carpenter shops," boys are given play models and allowed to 
use the saw and plane like men. In the art classes, Indian or war 
stories are illustrated on large sheets of paper, while the girls paint 
flowers and birds and stencil dainty patterns which they have them- 
selves designed. They use live models whenever possible, and parrots, 
puppies, cats, geese and chickens are carried from school to school 
to the great delight of the children. Dancing and rhythmic gym- 
nastic exercises receive much attention, as the children do not know 
how to use either hands or feet well. They can neither stand nor 
walk nor throw a ball straight. Classes in cooking and nursing have 
been fitted in wherever space can be foimd, the boys being as anxious 
to cook as the girls. But to the over-industrious teachers and children 
one inflexible rule has been given — " The play period must not be 
encroached upon." Every teacher has her game book and must 
learn to play if she has forgotten how. 

As the number of trained teachers has been increased, the volun- 
teer committee has gradually resumed the social duties of earlier days. 

One charming custom of our playgrounds is the weekly flower day 
during the summer, to which flower lovers for twenty miles around 
the city contribute. Great baskets of flowers are sent from city and 
suburban gardens and scores of women spend Thursday evening and 
Friday morning in tying thousands of bouquets. The love of flowers 
seems to be an absorbing passion, from the tiniest babies to the rough- 
est boys, and for days after the distribution the windows of the tene- 
ments are brightened by them. 

What have these play schools accomplished in the past seven 
years? When we go back to the mill neighborhoods we see no out- 
ward change. There is the same dirt and overcrowding. The mills 
have not changed in appearance and the operatives have not changed 
in character. The population is if anything more dense, but families 
have been helped, as these children have been trained to make the 
home cleaner and the clothes less dependent on " the strained devotion 
of a pin." Little girls have taught their mothers how to cook whole- 
some, plain food, and their care of the spoiled tenement baby has 
been more intelligent. At one school the girls were asked if their 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION 1 21 

babies ever drank coffee. Every one answered, " Yes." When the 
babies are put on a milk diet instead of one including coffee, dough- 
nuts and bananas, they will lie in a basket or hammock, and the little 
sisters that tend them can themselves rest or play with other chil- 
dren. 

The playgrounds are of help in solving the child labor problem. 
Many parents put their children to work during the summer vacation, 
not because they need the pittance which the child can earn, but to 
save them from the demoralization of the street. When these boys 
and girls are fourteen years old they seldom return to school. Such 
parents are more than willing to make use of the playground school 
instead of the factory or mill. Little Michel Strozzi's father had put 
him in the glass works for the summer, but he sent him to the vaca- 
tion school more than a mile away, where the child, small and delicate 
for his age, ran and jumped and built pyramids with other boys, 
handled tools, made toys and played with earnestness which expanded 
his lungs, straightened his back, and steadied his active little brain for 
another year of effective study. 

And the gang has been tamed. The West End gang, whose ideals 
had been confined to baseball and pugilism, became enthusiastic car- 
penters. Their devotion to the fine, clean young fellow who was their 
instructor was pathetic. They followed him around. In order to 
cure the sneak thieving he would leave all the material out on the 
ball field and go away without making any boy responsible for it. 
The next morning every bat and ball and glove would be returned. 

In another school the following rules were composed and written 
on the board by a basketry class of small boys : — 



You must not sass the teacher. 
You must not chew gum. 
You must not talk loud. 
You must not break the rules. 



The social results of such diversified and intimate work cannot be 
estimated. Manual training has been introduced into a number of 
schools, library groups and clubs have been started, and the settle- 
ment classes have continued the spirit of the playgrounds. 

We would rather judge them, however, by the great play festival 
at Schenley Park, which closed the season of 1908. Three thousand 
children who had been regular enough in their attendance to learn 
games and drills and folk dances came from every part of the city, 
flying their school pennants from the car windows, waving the school 



122 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

colors and shouting the school yells. At the top of the hill they formed 
in procession and marched down eight abreast, singing the play- 
ground marching song as they passed in review before the mayor 
and city officials. First came the babies, with their barrows and 
buckets and shovels, their toys and pin wheels ; then children a little 
older in flower chains and horse reins ; boys on stilts and girls with 
rag dolls of their own making; then boys and girls bringing toys, 
carts and all manner of other things which they had made ; and last 
the symbolic procession of the arts and crafts of the play schools. 
The carpenters in cap and apron, the housewives dressed as Puritan 
maidens, the cooks in white and the nurses in blue with the red cross 
on their arm, the metal workers with their mimic swords, the gar- 
deners in overalls and farmers' hats, with home-made rakes over 
their shoulders, the peasant dancers, the singers, the basket makers 
disguised as real Indians, the potters and the painters in blouses, 
the weavers and the needle workers, all carrying their banners and 
the tools of their craft. The teachers marched with the children, 
and janitors and custodians who would not be left out brought up 
the rear. Before the procession was ended a sudden storm drove the 
children into the buildings near by, drenched but happy. After the 
storm they trooped out again and scattered over the field for games. 
Drills, dances, races and other contests, and a wonderful circus for 
the boys followed quickly enough to be bewildering to the spectators. 
At any time when children were free they wandered about the park 
wondering at so much unused space. Then, with the assembly, the 
flag salute and the singing of America, the long lines of children were 
off and away in perfect order, yet without stiffness or constraint, 
after the " happiest day of their lives." 

The playgrounds and recreation centers of Pittsburgh have only 
touched the fringe of the tenement and workingmen's neighborhoods, 
but the problem is now plainly stated. Its solution is a question of 
time. The playground movement in America is justified by the im- 
mediate response which has come to it from cities and villages and 
even country places; and the desire for freedom, the play instinct, 
is not least insistent in our great industrial centers. In Pittsburgh 
playgrounds are no longer a luxury — they are a necessity. Because 
of the need for relaxation from the pressure of city life and labor, 
because children do not find in the street and the school and the 
home — especially the tenement home — all the necessities of life 
and growth, and because the European comes to us as raw material 
needing much social training and discipline to fit him for the respon- 
sibilities of American citizenship, we must have playgrounds. 

The recreation center is one of the great agencies in counteracting 
the forces which tend to disintegrate and desocialize our modern 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION 123 

industrial cities. Here will be emphasized the human factor which 
is reduced to its lowest terms in highly specialized forms of manu- 
facture and distribution. Here all the children of a neighborhood 
will gather for play. The center will have a playroom for little ones 
too young to attend school, and after school hours in winter and 
on the long summer mornings it will provide the place and materials 
for the play of school children. By intelligent direction of the play 
instinct it will make the natural connection between play and work. 
For the young people it will provide a place for wholesome amusement 
at a critical time in their lives when the home cannot and ought not 
to confine their growing social interests within its walls, but should 
keep in touch with all these interests and be related to them. This 
relation is natural in the democratic freedom of the recreation center, 
and for tired fathers and mothers, who need a place where they 
may meet their neighbors and widen their acquaintance, it will 
have something corresponding to the town room of old New 
England. 

The schoolhouse may often be used to meet the social needs of 
our congested neighborhoods. School yards can be open in summer 
and after school hours in winter, and should be supplied with appa- 
ratus and directors of play. The building can also be open in the 
winter for the same purposes. But few school buildings in the older 
parts of Pittsburgh are capable of extended use, and wherever the 
school's limitations are reached the distinctive play center must 
supply its deficiencies. 

The recreation center has a larger field than the school and appeals 
to many adults who v/ill not go to the school, but will respond quickly 
to the call to play. In its broadest application this may save the 
laborer from the downward pull of unrelieved drudgery. Through it 
some of the traditions of beauty which are the inheritance of our 
newest citizens may become our own. What vandals we have been 
to set Italy only to digging in our ditches and Greece to stoking fur- 
naces ! We have piled money upon money in our safety deposit 
vaults, but we have wasted our human riches in a way that is even 
more stupid than it is cruel. 

To the child of poverty, the city must restore his birthright by 
obliterating the slum, making healthy bodies and minds possible for 
all by setting the little ones of the tenement and factory in real child 
gardens. To the boys and girls of all classes the city must give a 
generous education of body and mind. The playground and the 
school must cooperate in guiding and developing their latent powers. 
The city must re-create the bond of fellowship between the poor and 
the rich that shall make their common human interests paramount 
to the competitive war which sets them in opposing and jealous 



124 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

camps. The common denominator may most often be found in the 
play spirit, and to this we may look for the civic unity of the coming 
time. 

Beulah Kennard, President of the Pittsburgh Playground Association. Extracts 
from a history prepared for The Pittsburgh Survey. Published in the Annual 
Report of the Pittsburgh Playground Association, 1908. Coiurtesy of the author. 

Comment on the Social Significance of the Playgromid 

Movement 

One of the important extensions of modern educational activity is 
that connected with school and municipal playgrounds. For many 
years, even for centuries, the importance of play has been dimly recog- 
nized. It is only within the last few decades that the individual and 
social values of play have been adequately understood, at least to the 
extent of serious and systematic attempts to realize those values in a 
general and practical way. 

That play is a necessity for the normal development of children 
and recreation for the mental and physical health of adults is no longer 
a matter requiring argument. But while it is important for the in- 
dividual boy or girl to have a chance to play, the present-day problem 
of play extends far beyond the needs of the individual. Play is more 
and more recognized to be a profound social necessity Careful sta- 
tistical studies show that, in Chicago for instance, the establishment 
of supervised playgrounds has very appreciably diminished juvenile 
delinquency in the areas within which they are located. This is a 
natural result of taking children off the streets and away from evil 
amusement resorts out of school hours and in vacation times. 
Through the playground also the evil influences of the gang are dimin- 
ished and the socially important virtues are given an opportunity to 
develop. The fresh air exercise is also an important factor in 
diminishing the social menace of tuberculosis. 

Altogether the social importance of the various play and recreation 
facilities, both for the crowded city, for the smaller towns and even for 
the rural districts, is abundantly justified. The development of play- 
grounds and their proper supervision thus appears to be a matter of 
general social concern and a legitimate avenue for social expenditure. 
We have referred to the playground movement as an extension of 
modern educational activity. This is true whether the playgrounds 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION 125 

are controlled by the board of education or by some other agency such 
as an independent playground association or the municipality itself. 
Play is an educator and the need for play is a part of the general need 
of education, whether it is handled by the traditional educational 
machinery or not. The educational needs of modern society are 
broader than can be met by any single agency. This is a principle 
which has already been emphasized and it should be constantly borne 
in mind as we consider the social aspects of education. We are not, 
however, brealdng with tradition when we include the development 
of playgrounds among modern educational agencies. The playground 
has always been, at least theoretically, an adjunct of the public school. 
The recognition of the educational and social possibilities of the play- 
ground has, however, outstripped our clumsy and old-fashioned edu- 
cational machinery. 

As has been pointed out in other connections, the first steps of 
educational progress are often taken in a more or less general way by 
society as a whole or by various private and semi-private agencies 
outside the public instruments of education. That this should be so 
is really an indication that the social body is in a normal, healthful 
condition. It means that it is capable of feeling the pressure of new 
needs, and that it has sufficient vitality to respond to this pressure 
whether the organized machinery for meeting these needs is available 
or not. The needs of a growing, of a dynamic community will always 
tend to outstrip the normal agencies of social expression. 

Here we are not primarily concerned with the problems of organiza- 
tion and administration or of the equipment of playgrounds. These 
are of course important phases and about them an extensive literature 
has grown up. It is the social significance of the movement that con- 
cerns us. This is well emphasized in the papers which precede. The 
extracts from Mero's work, American Playgrounds, state clearly the 
well recognized social benefits accruing to a community from some 
sort of recreation centers. He also discusses the important problem 
of the playground director and by a few telling statistics proves how 
widespread and growing is the social approval of the playground move- 
ment. Miss Kennard's paper is reprinted because of its forceful 
presentation of what the playground movement is accomplishing for 
social betterment in one city, a city which had, to start with, almost 



126 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

no public sentiment in favor of such work. A study of such a paper 
as this will be of interest not merely to the student of educational and 
sociological principles, but also to all those, whether teachers or not, 
who are concerned with the practical problems of social amelioration. 
A study such as we make here should be only preliminary to actual 
work. Hence each one should familiarize himself as fully as possible 
with the practical and administrative details of the playground move- 
ment. The appended bibliography will be a guide to these aspects. 

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF PLAY AND PLAYGROUNDS 
WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO THEIR SOCIAL VALUES 

American Association of Playgrounds, Vols. I-III. Important for 
general reference. 

Ammon, Mrs. S. "How to secure a playground," Charities, 21 : 235- 
236, 1908. Playgrounds in Massachusetts secured through 
referendum or initiative vote. 

Betts, L. W. "Children out of school hours," Outlook, 75:209. 
Importance of play as a part of our educational system. 

Bingham, Mrs. K. S. "The playgrounds of greater Boston," N. 
E. Mag., 40 : 185-192, 1909. A good historical account. 

Brown, E. E. "Health, morality and the playground," Charities, 
18:500-501, 1907. Social need for open country for physical 
vigor and clean imagination. 

Burns, A. T. "Relation of playgrounds to juvenile delinquency," 
Charities, 21 : 25-31. Playgrounds go far toward solving the 
problem of juvenile delinquency. Figures as to effect in Chicago 
given. 

Curtis, H. S. "Playground progress and tendencies," Charities, 
18 : 495-499. 1907.' Progress of playground work in various 
cities : the functions of; location; regulations, etc. 

"Playgrounds," Survey, 22 : 251-253. 1909. Social significance 

of playgrounds, necessity of supervision. 

"Public provision and responsibility for playgrounds," A. A. A., 

35 : 334. Public need for playgrounds in crowded districts, 
minister to health and social development. 

Farill, H. B. "The playground in the prevention of tuberculosis," 
Charities, 18 : 501-506, 1907. Has proved a great preventive 
measure. 



PLAYGROUND EXTENSION' 127 

GuLiCK, L. H. "Popular recreation and public morality," A. A. A., 
July, 1909. 

''Teaching American children to play," Craftsman, 15:192. 

Self-control acquired in play: eliminates racial antagonism; 
cultivates initiative; has decided moral value. 

"The business of play," Charities, 20:458-462. 1908. Play- 
grounds must be provided where it is illegal to play in streets. 
Care of boys and girls insures welfare of society. 

Hafer, M. R. "Plays and playgrounds," Charities, 20:661-666. 
Need of expert supervision: value as an educational agency. 

Jerome, Mrs. A. H. "Playground as a social center," A. A. A., 
35 • 345~349- First developed for hygienic reasons ; now seen 
to have deep social significance : moral value emphasized. 

Kennard, Beulah. "Pittsburgh's playgrounds," Survey, 22 : 184-196. 
Conditions for, most unpromising; successful development; 
proofs of value for both children and parents ; have counteracted 
many evil social tendencies. See also the Reports of the Pitts- 
burgh Playground Association. 

"Playground for children at home," A: A. A., 35 : 374. Public 

school, home, and neighborhood do not satisfy the child's social 
instincts ; the need of playgrounds, their moral educative value. 

Lee, Joseph. "Play as a school of the citizen," Charities, 18:486- 
491. Games develop justice in decision, knowledge of rule- 
making, honesty, fairness; the need of a leader. 

"Playground education," Ed. Rev., 22:449. Good discussion 

of the socializing effects. 

Leland, a. "Playground self-government," Charities, 12:586. 
Successful experience in children making their own laws. 

Lindsey, B. B. "Public playgrounds and juvenile delinquency," 
Ind., 65 : 420, 1908. Play a preventive of crime. State in caring 
for its children is caring for itself. 

McNuTT, J. L. "Chicago's ten million dollar experiment in social 
redemption," Ind., 57 : 612. Reform schools not filled with 
country boys but the city children with no play opportunities. 

"Massachusetts Playground Vote," Charities, 21:435. Cities of 
10,000 or over may vote on playgrounds; 23 cities voted over- 
whelmingly in favor of; difficulty of securing grounds. 

Mero, E. B. American Playgrounds. Boston, 1909. A general 
survey of the social need and fimction; methods of equipping; 
work of, etc. A valuable book. 



128 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Perry, C. Wider Use of the School Plant. New York, 1 910. Various 
chapters deal with different phases of the pubhc recreation 
movement. 

"Play Congress, Second," Charities, 21 : 13-25. 1908. Effect of 
play upon work; upon delinquency and crime. Many different 
phases discussed. 

"Plays and Playgroxmds," Charities, 40:470-476. Playgrounds 
as social centers ; preventive of crime ; an educational agency ; 
neighborhood playgrounds. 

Poole, Ernest. "Chicago's public playgrounds," Outlook, 87: 775- 
781. 1907. Describes the development of the system. 

Rns, Jacob, A. "Playgrounds for city schools," Century, old series, 
48 : 657-666. More opportunity for recreation would decrease 
truancy. 

ScuDDER, Myron, T. "Organized play in the country," Charities, 
18 : 547-556. Country children need direction and help in play. 
An account of some practical work in N. J. and N. Y. 

Stewart, S. T. "Recreation centers in city of New York," Charities, 
18 : 510. Describes the type of recreation undertaken in that city. 

Taylor, G. R. "Playgrounds in 185 cities," Charities, 21:4-6. 
Describes the rapid spread of the movement; $1,000,000 per 
month expended at date of article. 

Veiller, L. "Social value of playgrounds in crowded districts," 
Charities, 18:507-510. 1907. A valuable article. 

Warder, R. D. "Vacation playgrounds," N. S. S. E. Pt. I, 22-32. 
1911. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE SCHOOL GARDEN, ITS EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL VALUE 

Social Significance of School Gardens 

A SCHOOL garden may be defined as any garden where children are 
taught to care for flowers, or vegetables, or both, by one who can, 
while teaching the life history of the plants and of their friends and 
enemies, instill in the children a love of outdoor work and such knowl- 
edge of natural forces and their laws as shall develop character and 
efficiency. 

To make it apparent that size is not a crucial matter, a second 
definition may be that it " is any garden in which a boy or girl of school 
age takes an active interest. It may be a tiny seedling growing in 
a flowerpot indoors or an extensive series of garden crops in a large 
garden outdoors. The gardens may be collective or individual or 
both. In all these cases the plants to be grown are much the same 
and the methods involved in growing them are similar," ^ while the 
underlying purpose of the teaching is threefold; educational, industrial, 
and social — or moral, since it is only in relation to others that moral 
conduct or character exists. =* 

As the founder of the children's school farm in DeWitt Clinton 
Park, New York, wrote in her first report : — 

" I did not start a garden simply to grow a few vegetables and 
flowers. The garden was used as a means to show how willing and 
anxious children are to work, and to teach them in their work some 
necessary civic virtues: private care of public property, economy, 
honesty, application, concentration, self-government, civic pride, jus- 
tice, the dignity of labor, and the love of nature by opening to 
their minds the little we know of her mysteries, more wonderful than 
any fairy tale." ^ 

The virtues here enumerated can best be taught in the school garden 
with the individual plot and ownership, because there the interest is 
greater, the rewards are more desirable, and cause and effect are more 

1 Weed and Emerson, The School Garden Book, p. 3. 

s Mrs. Henry Parsons in Report of the First Children's School Farm in New York City 
for 1002-1904. 

K 129 



130 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

frequently and clearly demonstrable. The cultivation of such vir- 
tues is at the minimum when the garden of a school is only a bit 
of decorative planting in the care of which the children have no part. 
School-ground decoration of this type is better than none, for like 
pictures on the schoolroom walls, it sends out a daily influence in behalf 
of orderliness and beauty. So much the more reason why the decora- 
tive planting should be of the best, that it may teach symmetry of 
arrangement, harmony of line and color, and unity throughout. 

Such a garden may inspire some degree of civic pride in the children 
and some respect for pubUc property through the feeling that their 
school home is superior to that of others. But these ideas are likely 
to be limited, in practical results, to children who have an eye for 
natural beauty. Introduce but a little bulb planting by the children, 
however, a little active participation in the care of the plants and 
grounds, and at once to each and every child the garden becomes 
" our " garden, and an injury to it a personal affair ; any praise or 
merit becomes a comment about something '* I made or helped to 
make." With this sense of participation comes genuine private 
care of public property. Of necessity, there must follow with this 
kind of interest many self-determined convictions on the part of the 
child as to what is morally as well as culturally right and wrong in 
the garden. Lessons like these become gradually ingrained modes 
or habits of thought, and the child is toughened morally. 

The larger the field the gardening offers, other things being equal, 
the greater the opportunity for development of the child. Hence, 
the plea for individual beds and also for cooperative labor on larger 
areas, as on paths and on class or sample plots. The union of these 
two kinds of tasks best illustrates life where each individual works out 
his own salvation; if happily and usefully, he must do it with due 
consideration for others and for his own share of responsibility for the 
public good. . . . 

As a rule, the normal schools have been the first to indorse the school 
garden and to try out its value, while boards of education have viewed 
it as a new thing requiring it to prove its educational and social worth. 
Frequently they give it a meager support, recognizing it perhaps by 
the appointment of a nature study teacher as a supervisor of school 
gardens, but granting little or no money toward the maintenance of 
the garden or a reasonable salary to cover the summer's work of super- 
vision. Sometimes this lack of support is due to a division of opinion 
among the school commissioners or among members of the boards of 
estimate. It may meet the opposition of the older and more con- 
servative principals of the city, or of a ward politician who sees no 
sense in it and is afraid that the voters will look upon it as a new fad 
or a new excuse for increasing taxes. 



THE SCHOOL GARDEN 131 

Generally, the school garden idea has captured the educational 
leaders in our country, made friends for itself among the most pro- 
gressive of our teachers, old and new, and won the children wherever 
it has been tried. One drawback to its rapid growth is that there is 
still confusion because of the stress that has been laid sometimes upon 
theoretical views ; or upon its peculiar fitness to meet the special 
needs of particular places. These lesser questions can be safely left 
to settle themselves, for a school garden is like a bank in that it may 
be drawn upon for values of different kinds to meet different needs, as 
one may require money in the form of gold or silver, check or draft. 
In a school garden the educational, economic, aesthetic, utilitarian, 
or sociological value may be made most prominent, according to cir- 
cumstances. Its power for developing a child's nature should not 
be confined to only one of these viewpoints ; neither should it be con- 
sidered appropriate to one stratum of society or to a few classes of 
children only. It may ease the condition of the poor and bring profit 
and pleasure to their children. To the children of the rich and well 
to do it will give pleasure, and should teach some needed lessons in 
personal responsibility and in the consequences of broken laws from 
which it is human nature to think that one may escape. 

So long as the educational value of school gardens is not fully rec- 
ognized by local school boards, just so long will they be dependent 
for their support upon philanthropic societies or upon the good will 
of private individuals, and be subject to the discouragement of loose 
tenure and shift of locality as land values rise. Until very recently 
those interested in agriculture or horticulture or in attempts to benefit 
social conditions have been most active in establishing them.^ 

It is interesting to note how many gardens Hke those at Yonkers, 
at Pittsburgh, at Dubuque, and in part at Cleveland, have developed 
into social centers. Among educators, friends of the school garden 
are multiplying rapidly, and increasing numbers believe " that in- 
struction such as is given in the school garden is of the right kind. It 
arouses interest in real things ; it develops judgment ; it brings the 
child in contact with his environment, and, above all, it gives that 
opportunity for placing responsibility on the child without which 

1 The National Plant, Flower and Fmit Guild encourages school gardens and through its 
local branches assists in starting them. 

The International School Farm League seeks to develop the school garden in connection 
with schools, parks, institutions and day camps, as an educational, recreational, sociological 
and remedial agency. 

The Gardening Association of America, organized October, igog, in Buflfalo, gives equal 
emphasis to vacant lot and school gardening and will encourage both because of their 
tendency to benefit the poor, to show the power of self-help, to further agricultural interests, 
to lessen the evil influences of city life and to cultivate a love of growing plants. 



132 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

character is not developed. The activities of school garden work are 
natural to the child and give much needed respite from schoolroom 
restraint. . . . The child's mind gets growth out of them because 
it can understand them. Not only does the school garden serve to 
educate and train, but it suppUes a kind of knowledge that is highly 
useful and cultivates a taste for an honorable and remunerative 
vocation." ^ 

Perhaps, best of all, is that teaching of the saner and sweeter side 
of life which comes when the school garden takes the child off the city 
streets, away from crowded alleys, vicious surroundings, and, in the 
country, often from misspent leisure ; when it finds happy work for 
idle hands, health for enfeebled bodies, and training for the will and 
affections. If you doubt the last service, watch the child's love for 
the flowers and vegetables he has to grow, and the affectionate pride 
of his parents in the success of his garden. Sometimes a selfish in- 
terest in what the child can provide for the family table has brought 
him more consideration and developed greater gentleness and co- 
operation in the family Hfe. It has proved just as well to " stand in " 
with the little farmer who can provide otherwise unattainable delicacies 
of fresh vegetables, salads and soup materials. 

All these things make any kind of a garden worth while, and, if we 
utilize the interest in it to freshen the wearisome tasks of the school- 
room, there is an added value. The dullest child will brighten as he 
or she lays out the little plot, figures out the crops, or calculates the 
gains. The telling of a story with innocent and pleasurable self 
interest as the pivotal point, opens a way into an easier and better 
land of composition than was dreamed of before : while history and 
geography, textiles, food and clothing have surprising relations to 
a garden which an occasional apt reference or illustration can bring 
out. More and more it is being made the partner of physical geog- 
raphy. In every school it should be the twin of nature study and 
usually the companion of manual training. It is easy to show how 
much we owe to the husbandman ; how the life of the whole round 
world is interdependent, or, in a child's phraseology, " hangs to- 
gether " ; how tilling of the soil is a fundamental necessity. No 
child who has ever loved a garden will despise the farmer, for he has 
learned by experience to respect manual labor ; and that brains and 
hands must work together to bring good crops. ... 

School gardens may be regarded from several points of view and 
cultivated with one or more of several aims in mind so far as the im- 
mediate or future good of the child is concerned. But whatever the 
special purpose, there should be kept in mind the far reaching in- 
fluences that will pervade a neighborhood when a successful school 

^W. J. Spillman, Significance of the School Garden Movement. 



THE SCHOOL GARDEN 



133 



garden so inspires the children and parents that little gardens in home 
yard or window box spring up as restful, cheerful bits of color. These 
are a bond of sympathy and pleasure among the poor, the well-to-do, 
and the wealthy. There is no hobby that may be so inexpensive ; no 
subject of conversation less likely to become disagreeably personal; 
no topic offering better opportunities of give and take in the matter 
of experience than that of flowers. So it follows that a love of flowers 
tends to level class distinctions ; to give openings for real friendliness 
based upon mutual interests among people whose business and en- 
vironment may be vastly different. Moreover, the individual better- 
ment that comes from any worthy hobby follows in the wake of flower 
culture. . . . 

At the present time there are, as has been said, school gardens of 
many varying kinds carried on for different immediate ends, though 
with the one underlying and imiversal purpose of helping the children 
to an all-round development. Some of these gardens will be briefly 
sketched. It is probably true that the mental picture which the term 
" school garden " most frequently calls up is that of a plot of ground 
laid out in slim individual beds where the common vegetables, together 
with one or two varieties of flowers, are grown ; and larger areas for 
flowers and observations, or sample plots, on which are grown various 
plants including the common troublesome garden weeds. In such a 
garden the chQdren may learn the joy of individual ownership and of 
cooperative or group work as well. They will at the same time, 
through sharing in the work on the larger plots, become familiar with 
a wider range of plant life than that which could be grown on their 
own small plots. Such a mental pictiire may have for its setting the 
congested quarter of a great city, a bit of public park or playground, 
a part of town or village schoolyard, or it may be an isolated vacant lot 
transformed. 

To know how to plan, to care for and conduct such a garden re- 
quires the fundamental knowledge necessary to success in carrying 
on any kind of a school garden. For this reason, and because it is 
more likely to be the sort of garden attempted in any locality as an 
initial experiment, it is here taken as the basic tj^e, and to it and the 
work that may be centered in it, the greater number of the following 
chapters are devoted. One may find such gardens in the East and 
South, in our Middle and Western states, in Canada and in the West 
Indies, though in the last the nature of the crops will vary considerably 
from the uniformity common on the continent. Its plots may be tiny 
or big, its equipment small or large, the scope of its work narrow or 
wide, its quality and quantity graded or ungraded; but as far as it 
goes, its teaching and experience are fundamental, whether for teacher 
or child. So to this " fundamental type " we give par excellence the 



134 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

name " school garden," because in the mind of psychologist, educator 
and teacher, it is a school in which to cultivate, to develop, children 
quite as much as or more than to teach them how to grow flowers or 
to mature vegetables. 

This fundamental type offers the largest cultural development for 
children in the smallest area. It demands of the teacher either little 
or much training, according to the scope of work carried on in it. 
Nowhere is less previous experience required except in the tiny posy 
garden or where, as in some formal gardens, the work of teacher and 
children is confined to a very small amount of supervised planting, 
whether of bulbs or seeds, and to the necessary later care in watering 
and in keeping the soil loose. From the likeness of much of the work 
in the " fundamental type " to truck gardening, and from the chil- 
dren's delight in being known as little farmers, owing to their small 
farms, this basic t3rpe might be called not only the " school garden," 
but the " school garden farm." . . . 

It is a far cry from the complete outfit of the ideal garden to taking 
up the pavement in a school yard and making two by two foot beds 
for tiny farms. But, as one cannot expect completeness, so one may 
hope to avoid such impoverishment as the two by two foot plots 
would imply. If you cannot do any better, begin with the two by two 
foot bed and comfort yourself with the thought of the lesser sum of 
money needed and the probability that the question of soil will resolve 
itself into buying a few bushels or, at most, a few loads of good garden 
soil, such as would be necessary in the case of a roof garden. In 
cities, parts, so to speak, of the ideal garden may be scattered judi- 
ciously among the various schools, in their yards or on near-by vacant 
lots. For instance, one school may have only the garden for school- 
ground decoration, very likely of the formal sort. Here, where plant 
lines must harmonize with architectural lines and a color scheme of 
continual bloom be carried out, the training of a landscape gardener, 
or the advice of an expert, is necessary. But if the outline of such a 
garden be prepared, the teacher can follow it ; the children can help 
in cultivating the hedges, trees and flowers. The garden becomes an 
object lesson and pleasure to the neighborhood and of permanent and 
increasing value to the school. To the children, it will be a means of 
development in more than one direction. 

A pretty story is told in connection with the formal garden of the 
Watterson School, Cleveland, Ohio. At the third clipping of their 
privet hedge the cuttings were taken into the schoolroom and the 
children were asked if they cared enough for their hedge to think that 
other children in a distant school building would also like to own one. 
They were quite sure that a hedge like theirs would be much appre- 
ciated. The curator of the school gardens then explained that if the 



THE SCHOOL GARDEN 



135 



Watterson children were willing, besides giving the cuttings, to do 
a little work for those distant schoolmates, the latter could have a 
hedge. They cheerfully agreed to help. For busy work, they stripped 
the leaves. Then, they gathered the cuttings into groups of twos and 
threes, of fives and tens, and then into fifties. These large bundles 
were sent to another school where the children would lend their cold 
frames to " bank " or house the cuttings during the winter and to 
give them an early start so that the new hedge would be ready as soon 
as possible to make rapid and sturdy growth. Some of the children 
in the Watterson School were given the stripped leaves, with which they 
were told to lay out on their desks designs of any shape. Later, there 
was a little nature study talk upon the construction of the leaf and how 
it serves the parent plant, and attention was called to the difference 
in color of the upper and under sides. The children were asked to 
remake their designs, using the two shades for color effect. They were 
promised that they would be shown how the young plants had lain 
dormant through the winter and how they started into life in the early 
spring, and were told that they could visit the other school to see the 
hedge which they had prepared for its boys and girls. 

The story suggests gardens for special purposes ; as for preparation 
for truck farming (" training gardens ") ; for exchange of plants ; 
for forcing ; for nursery or forestry purposes ; or the kitchen garden 
which might be attached to a school where the cooking courses were 
particularly good. In connection with any of these gardens, there 
might be a few flowers or a floral border so that the work could be 
partly individual, partly cooperative. In the kitchen garden there 
could be, in addition, observation plots showing sweet herbs, grains, 
flax, hemp and cotton, or the raw products necessary for the com- 
monest household tasks. Observation plots on a large numerical 
scale are necessary in botanical gardens laid out to show the classifi- 
cation of plants by families or according to their industrial or com- 
mercial uses. Here, again, plots can be apportioned to individual 
children, and special cultural directions may be given to each when 
necessary. The exchange garden above referred to is carried on per- 
haps as much for the benefit of the parents as for the little ones. It 
is a central garden to which men, women and children can bring their 
extra or duplicate plants and exchange them for those of which others 
had a surplus. In Cleveland such a garden made in one year 20,000 
exchanges. That means not only a good deal of pleasure, but much 
return for little money. . . . 

Sometimes the easiest and most tactful way to secure a school 
garden in a remote community is to begin with a topographical or 
chart garden ; that is, one based on exploration of the surrounding 
country. Such would naturally lead up to interest in a wild flower 



136 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

garden and to the decoration of the school gardens. Where the school- 
house is an ugly building on a small, unsightly lot, and where farmers 
have no use for "fads," the topographical garden may be the only 
one possible. It may be well, therefore, to make very clear what is 
meant, especially as through such means a very conservative com- 
munity may sometimes be led to take a lively interest not only in 
improving the school premises, but in permitting an experiment in 
vegetable gardening, which later may prove a boon to both adults 
and children. 

Most children are glad to tell you where a unique tree, a noticeable 
bush or rare flower, is to be found. With the schoolhouse as a starting 
point, map out the way to find it. Gradually enlarge the drawing 
to indicate the contour of the land as the children describe road, hill, 
swamp or plain. Mark upon it the noticeable trees of houses or even 
big rocks or bowlders. Later fill in the map so as to suggest the kinds 
of growth in the bordering woods or meadows, first the larger sorts and 
then the smaller, gathering as you chart them topics for talks to which 
a part of one day each week may be given. At these times, the teacher 
should help the children sort out the knowledge which each has con- 
tributed, and should amplify and intensify it for all. Some of the 
children will fetch specimens. With a Httle encouragement, they will 
be willing to bring enough earth, if necessary, to start a wild flower 
garden, like the one at the George Putnam School previously men- 
tioned as the first in America, or the 10 by 100 foot strip of wild flower 
garden at the Cobbett School, Lynn, Massachusetts, where several 
hundred shrubs, woody vines, ferns and herbs are gathered. " From 
hepatica and bloodroot to aster and witch hazel they flourish in their 
season." Some of the rarer plants were brought or sent from central 
New York, from New Hampshire and from distant parts of Massa- 
chusetts. 

However, one need not in any rural district go far to find suitable 
material for fern or wild flower border, for shrubbery or for trees fit 
to be transplanted. There are few plants that, like the arbutus and 
fringed gentian, rebel at civilization, and many that increase in size 
and brilliancy under cultivation. That they are hardy^and persistent 
when once rooted, twenty years' experience in gardening in a city 
back yard has proved. Dutchman's breeches (Dicentra), hepatica, 
spring beauty, anemone, jack-in-the-pulpit, columbine, adder's tongue, 
asters, goldenrod, violets of several kinds, the rose marsh mallow and 
the wild sunflower all bear transplanting and cultivation. Rasp- 
berry vines and blackberry bushes can be utilized for the garden as 
well as wild grape, woodbine or Virginia creeper, bittersweet, clematis 
and some of the other native vines. The hobble bush has beauty of 
blossom and leafage. Thorn apple, flowering dogwood, the elders, 



THE SCHOOL GARDEN 137 

wild barberry and bob sumac provide good shrubbery, and several of 
them furnish rich color and effective outlines in the fall and winter. 
The mountain ash and the white birch are treasures, and many a seed- 
ling elm, oak or maple is easily found. 

In some way estabhsh a bond of interest between the school and 
the home growing of flowers. Start a plant or two in the schoolroom 
window.^ One teacher in a rural school began his flower garden with 
a single fuchsia and in two or three years had a large family of plants, 
including many grandchildren of the original flower. In fact, that 
family became so numerous under judicious slippings that its descend- 
ants were farmed out or given for adoption into the homes of grateful 
children who frequently offered slips of other flowers in return. To 
ask for a slip is in many communities a most acceptable compliment 
to the successful grower of house plants. Many of the begonias are 
easily propagated from pieces of stem or leaf, and their bright colors 
and unique leafage make them universally pleasing. For outdoor 
work about the school, ask for roots of lilac, forsythia or yellow 
flowering willow, flowering almond or flowering quince, bridal 
wreath or peonies. 

Strive for a clean school yard as you would for a clean schoolroom, 
but do not stop there. Beauty has its moral effect on a child. It is 
useless to expect untarnished morality from children whose parents 
provide ramshackle outbuildings and schools uninteresting and re- 
pellent outside and in, where no playgrounds exist and where no pro- 
vision is made to keep investigating minds safely busy when not 
occupied with lessons. Clothe your outbuildings with vines, screen 
them with groups of trees, plant your grounds with things that invite 
the children to note their growth or to enjoy their welcome shade. 
Make school a delightful place in which to hnger because it has so 
many charming interests. Childish activity whether of mind or body 
needs direction. As in the childhood of the race, morality was an un- 
known thing, so, too, in childhood, some of the evils that we most 
deplore are at certain ages largely the outburst of the investigating 
spirit spending itself upon what is near at hand in default of better, 
happier things with which to fill otherwise vacant moments. 

No scheme or plan for the decoration of the rural school can be com- 
pleted in one season, but a beginning, pleasing to the eye, is a good 
thing, a fertile seed of usefulness. 

In rural districts, gardens for experiment or sample plots for ob- 
servation are sometimes possible even on a relatively microscopic 
scale. Classroom demonstration of the qualities of soils and other 

1 At the least, one can have that always interesting thing, an eggshell garden, for it needs 
but a few seeds, one or two of them planted in each shell that has been filled with a little 
rich soil. Later the seedlings may be transplanted into the school or home garden. 



138 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

experiments may illustrate the growth upon these small plots. The 
country boy, of course, has no use for farming on tiny beds that to city 
children seem veritable plantations. Such baby farming and such 
instruction in the first use of tools as would be welcome in the city 
would be ridiculous in the country. Possibly a farmer's boy hates 
the whole business of farming and longs for the day when he can get 
away from it and enjoy life more as he fancies his city cousins do. 
His father, perhaps, has no use for the new school frills, and does not 
want interference or intrusion on his home ground. But it may be 
feasible to introduce school gardening by suggesting that one boy or 
group of boys should conduct home experiments, as, for instance, with 
two apple trees or two patches of potatoes, spraying the one and not 
the other, and having different children make occasional visits to com- 
pare notes. 

On the other hand, throughout New England and New York, 
many schoolhouses have barely ground enough for the children's 
recess. Yet even so, if a few feet of ground could be planted, for 
example, to cabbages or potatoes, an experiment could be conducted 
that would touch the taxpayer's pocket, dissolve the shell of prejudice, 
and win at least a grudging acknowledgment that there is some merit 
in school gardening. Such a plot could be divided into halves and one 
part planted with selected eyes from large, well-formed potatoes, while 
the other half should be seeded with eyes from small or indifferent 
stock. One half of each division should be carefully sprayed against 
the ravages of the potato bug. The other half should be left to care 
for itself. The result would show the relative value of the crops in 
a most convincing way. Ten cabbages would demonstrate the ravages 
of the common cabbage butterfly and, incidentally, of the cabbage 
root maggot and the flea beetle in localities where they abound. Four 
heads of cabbage should be carefully screened by one piece of cheese 
cloth or netting and four by another, while two may be left uncovered. 
Those uncovered will be exposed while young seedlings and tender 
plants to attacks of the beetle and the maggot. Those covered will be 
protected from the cabbage butterfly ; but it is proposed to introduce 
under one of the screens all the white butter:^es of this variety of 
pierids which the children may catch. Later, the riddled leaves of 
one group of plants will show the ravages of the caterpillar hatched 
from the butterflies' eggs, and the life history of the insect may be 
presented as a complete story for the children. . . . 

Many schools in country districts could follow the custom adopted 
in the cities of giving out seeds for the children to plant in their home 
gardens, and the teacher's social call might include supervision of 
these. Speaking of the work in Concord Normal School, Athens, 
West Virginia, where seeds are distributed to the children to be planted 



THE SCHOOL GARDEN 139 

in home plots with supervision and advice by the head of the de- 
partment, the principal, Mr. C. L. Bemis, writes: — 

" The reason we are doing our work in this way is because we have 
no ground of our own for such work. I think I should prefer the way 
we are doing it, anyway, because it makes the parents more interested 
in the work, and all the child raises is his own. It is necessary, how- 
ever, for him to return seeds to the school for those taken away from the 
school. He has to carry the plant through from the seed to the seed." ^ 

In the South, also, attempts are being made to interest the farmers' 
children in flower or vegetable gardens of their own. Among the 
Central states, as in Ohio, the work in this line sometimes does not take 
the form of technical instruction in agriculture, but rather of teaching 
that shall open the children's eyes to the growing life about them. 
Sometimes this is done by reading from the works of such authors as 
Riley, Carleton, Burroughs, who write of the farm, woods and fields ; 
sometimes by stories of what men like Burbank have done, or of the 
achievements of men like McCormick who have invented labor-saving 
tools. In garden and nature study work the object is to make the 
country boy realize the natural forces with which he must deal, the 
wonderful changes that go on about him; to lead him to scientific 
understanding of his own environment, appreciation of his economic 
position, and to realization of the aesthetic enjoyment possible in his 
surroundings.^ Such intellectual training will not carry his interests 
away from the farm, as is so often the case in school life now, but will 
provide breadth of culture, make rural life fuller, and give a mental 
alertness useful for all time, whether the boy remains upon the farm 
or enters industrial or professional life. 

We of the north Atlantic coast pride ourselves upon the little red 
schoolhouse, and the church steeples that crown our New England 
hills ; upon the virtue that came out of them and went into the making 
of our country. But this is now largely a matter of historic pride and 
poetic sentiment only. To-day the New England schoolhouse is too 
frequently a blot on our civilization ; a raw, ugly object, spoiling the 

> The italics are the author's. Following the circuit of the free traveling libraries in 
seven of the Southern states, over a hundred school gardens have been established in con- 
nection with the rural schools. 

* "If the farmer as he trudges down the com rows under the June sun sees only clods 
and weeds and com, he leads an empty and a barren life. But if he knows of the work 
of the moisture in air and soil, of the use of air to root and leaf, of the mysterious chemistry 
in the sunbeam, of the vital forces in the growing plant, and of the bacteria in the soil liberat- 
ing its elements of fertility ; if he sees all the relation of all these natural forces to his own 
work ; if he can follow his crop to the market, to foreign lands, to the mill, to the oven and 
the table, — he realizes that he is no mere toiler." — Felmley David, Agriculture and Horli- 
culture in the Rural Schools. 



I40 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

beauty of the landscape, indecent in its surroundings ; of rude, un- 
lovely exterior, with only the flag as an inspiration ; and with a dismal, 
uncomfortable interior for tasks that have but little vital connection 
with the life which the children lead. Even in the largest buildings 
and with the wider curriculum of the schools of the small towns there 
is no place for the development of the farmer's boy as there is for the 
child of the merchant, mechanic, artisan or artist. There is no outlook 
toward the agricultural college as toward the college of arts and science 
or the special professional or trade school. " Manual training has 
brought the shop and school together, but the farm and school are still 
far apart." 

It is possible to make the school and its surroundings more attractive, 
to give its dry routine a closer connection with the children's daily 
lives, and through it to add new interests to the life of field and wood. 
It does not need a nurseryman to give a lesson in transplanting vines 
or bushes or young trees ; to set out a growth of baby pine or red cedars 
for a windbreak or rapidly growing sumac for a screen ; to plant the 
royal aster or glowing goldenrod in a dismal corner, or train the 
clematis to cover bare walls or fences. This much can surely be at- 
tempted and possibly also a small vegetable garden or trial plots on 
a larger scale for work with grains and fertilizers. Experimental plots 
are better on the rural school ground, especially where land is cheap, 
for they can be made to bear directly upon the economic interests of 
the community. Moreover, the cost of land increases, and if its pur- 
chase is deferred from year to year in rural towns, whole districts be- 
come built up and we soon have the problem of the congested city 
district. 

Extracts from Louise Greene's Among School Gardens, publication of the Russell Sage 
Foundation. Courtesy Charities Publication Committee. 



Comment on the Social Significance of School Gardens 

The preceding extracts from Miss Greene's book, Among School 
Gardens, state admirably the more important social meanings and 
educational values in school gardening. No line of recent educa- 
tional extension is fraught with larger possibilities of social betterment 
than this outdoor work with growing plants. Miss Greene's entire 
book should be carefully read by all serious students of modern edu- 
cational advance. 

On the educational side, in its narrower sense, the school garden 
furnishes the children with concrete and live material for almost all 
the regular school studies. Not merely is nature study vitalized by 



THE SCHOOL GARDEN 141 

such a contact with growing things, but its scope is also greatly broad- 
ened, hosts of new and interesting problems are suggested to teachers 
and pupils alike. These gardening activities also contribute much 
concrete interest to the child's work in number, in language and even 
in geography. The recreational effects are equally important. The 
open-air work and open-air inte est produces in children a healthy- 
mindedness of incalculable value for progress in the regular school 
studies. 

When we pass from the narrower educational values to the social 
consequences, we find that these are far-reaching and significant. As 
Miss Greene points out, the school garden has had an appreciable in- 
fluence in diminishing juvenile delinquency. This is the result not 
merely of giving idle children something worth while to do, but also of 
the open-air work itself. It is well known that vigorous work in the 
open air and open-air interests constitute a decided moral tonic for 
delinquents, and, if to them, certainly for the normal pupils as well. 
Open-air work is a valuable corrective in reform schools. Its results 
are so astonishingly beneficial that one might almost conclude that 
indoor work and bad air is a prime factor in moral deterioration. 

The social and moral value of school gardening comes, then, in part 
from the free open-air exercise, in part also from the implanting in the 
child's mind of healthful objective interests and, furthermore also, 
from the opportunity afforded for the development of true social 
activities and social interests such as are too often entirely lacking 
in the schoolroom. Here the children may work together; each may 
contribute something of interest and value to the rest through the 
faithful cultivation of his own little plot. It may be fruit or seeds 
to exchange with others, or beautiful effects through flowers in which 
aU may take delight. Every school garden affords many valuable 
opportunities for mutual helpfulness. 

Nor is the social value of school gardens confined to the little school 
community. It has been found to extend beyond to the homes and to 
the neighborhood generally. Unsightly and unhealthy back yards 
are cleaned up, and gardens for beauty and for profit are started in 
them. The interest in gardening leads to a utilizing of vacant lots 
on the part of the older as well as the younger members of the family, 
and the economic returns to hard-working people are often consider- 



142 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

able. Through the school garden the country boy may for the first 
time have awakened in him an interest in the scientific aspects of soil 
cultivation, and the city boy may have opened to him an unsuspected 
world of interests and possibilities for a life career. But whether 
either finds his life work in some form of soil cultivation, at least 
both alike acquire a new outlook on life and, along with it, one of the 
most healthful and delightful and soul-restoring forms of recreation 
known to man. 

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY ON SCHOOL GARDENS 

Bailey, L. N. Cyclopedia of Agriculture, Vol. IV. 

Bennett, Helen C. "School gardens in Philadelphia; purpose and 
benefits," Charities, 14:619-624. Method of control; practical 
work of; interest of children in; moral and aesthetic value of. 

BuELL, Lucy B. "Gardening for city children," Charities, 14:615. 
Aims, method and success of the Cleveland Home Gardening 
Association; wide social influence in that city. 

Clapp, H. N. "School gardens," Pop. Sc. M., 52:445, A brief 
summary of the movement in Europe, and in Roxbury, Massa- 
chusetts; its educational significance. 

"Educational value of school gardens," Nature, 84:220. Valuable 
for nature study ; develops initiative and practical sense. 

Greene, Louise. Among School Gardens. New York, 1910. The 
best survey and interpretation of the movement and direction for 
practical work. Extensive bibliography. 

Hamlin, L. A. "Where oats, beans, peas and barley grow. How 
school gardens put a new civic spirit into South Chicago," Survey, 
24 : 18-24. 1910. Developed civic pride, better morals. 

Hemenway, H. D. How to make School Gardens. A manual of 
practical procedure for teachers and pupils. 

Holmes, N. W. "Educational progress for 1908," S. Rev., 17:299. 
Points out the social value; how the school garden relieves the 
strain in cities. 

Johnson, Stanley. "The Hartford method for school gardens. 
Vacation times where work and play are happily combined," 
Craftsman, 12 : 657. Two days per week devoted to outdoor 
work; children kept off the streets. 



THE SCHOOL GARDEN 143 

Kern, J. O. Among Country Schools, Chapter IV. Discusses the 
value of school gardens in the country; purpose; practical 
directions. 

LuKENS, H. T. "A School garden in Thuringia," Ed. Rev., 17: 237. 
A typical German school garden. Shows what enthusiasm with 
only a little money will do. 

Miller, L. K. "School gardens," El. Sch. T., 8:576. Social and 
individual results in Cleveland. 

"Nature study in Whitechapel," Survey, 22:438-439. An editorial 
on the work of a London school garden. 

Parsons, Fannie G. "The second children's farm school in New 
York City," Charities, 11 : 220-223. Early interest in movement 
in New York. 

Parsons, Henry G. Gardens for Pleasure, Health and Education. 
New York, 19 10. Part I is devoted to social and moral values of 
children's gardens. Part II deals with the problems of practical 
procedure. 

SiPE, Susan B. "School gardening at the National Capital," El. 
Sch. T., 6 : 417. Regulations and advantages of the Washing- 
ton system. 

Smith, K. L. "Children's flower gardens and their uses," Cur. Lit., 
32 : 716. A short general discussion. 

SoTJTHERLAND, S. "The school garden as an educational factor," 
New England, N. S., 26 : 675. Among other values the moral 
and social stands out; respect for rights and property of others 
engendered. 

Washington, B. T, "Pleasure and profit of work in the soil," 
Working with the Hands, Chapter XIL 



CHAPTER DC 

INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION, ITS SOCIAL SIGNIFICANCE 

The Fundamental Principles of Continuation Schools 

The wealth of a country depends not only on the natural riches of 
its soil, but also on the men who turn these riches to account. It has 
always been the aim of industrial states, or of states that desired to 
become industrial, to produce human material more and more fitted 
for their task. It was principally this object that induced absolute 
monarchs in Europe to establish primary schools. These schools 
were to contribute toward making industries, or, as they were then 
called, manufactures, a more productive source of the state revenue. 

But the farther we penetrate into the question of educating the 
masses to industrial capacity, the more we recognize that the problem 
before us is not special but general, that it is, in fact, nothing less than 
the problem of educating the whole man. Educational works in the 
United States are full of this discovery. In a description of the Lynn 
works, Alexander Magnus says : — 

"There are three main problems that enter into production: the 
machine problem, the material problem, the men problem. The 
latter is the most difficult problem, but also the most important one, 
in competitive activity." 

In an article in the American Federation of Labor on industrial educa- 
tion I find the sentence : — 

"There is a growing feeling that is gaining rapidly in strength, that 
in industrial education the human element must be recognized, and 
cannot be so disregarded as to make the future workers mere auto- 
matic machines." 

This is perfectly true. The one-sided education of workmen 
to dexterity is only an apparent solution of the problem. Of course, 
industry requires an army of men trained to perform them. But 
dexterity only attains its full value when it is based on insight. And 
one thing more is necessary. We require not only dexterity and in- 
sight, but also the education of the moral character. Perhaps this 
development of character is the most important part even in industrial 
education, for firmness and principle will lead a man to acquire dexterity 
and insight, but dexterity and insight are not always placed in the 
service of character. 

144 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 145 

I do not assert that it always makes itself immediately felt, when 
any branch of industry neglects to train its workmen to insight and 
character. Many industries may profit for a longer or shorter period 
by their one-sided purely selfish training. But if all the industries 
of a state were to confine themselves to the development of dexterity, 
or even of dexterity and intelligence, the disadvantages of this method 
would soon make themselves apparent. For neither men, nor the 
states which they form, nor the industries which they carry on, can 
live an isolated life. They are all bound together by more or less 
common interests, linked together by a thousand chains. The in- 
dividual is not only a workman in one branch or another, he is also 
a citizen of the state. And as a citizen, his welfare and interests are 
inseparably connected with the welfare and interests of all other 
citizens. Every form of education, whatever its special aims may be, 
must further the peaceful disentanglement of these interwoven inter- 
ests — at least, that is to say, every form the realization of which 
requires schools supported by public money. 

It might be urged — and I know that Americans favor this view — 
that it is not incumbent on the general community to provide more 
than a general education. To do this is both its right and its duty. 
But it has no duty and no right to use public money for purposes 
of specialized forms of education. This assertion cannot be justified. 
I have the conviction even that education for a calling offers us the 
very best foundation for the general education of a man. We are far 
too much inclined to assume both in the old world and in the new, 
that it is possible to educate a man without reference to some special 
calling. This assumption is erroneous. The only part of it that is 
true is that one calling requires more preparatory education than 
another, and that in our higher schools a common preparatory educa- 
tion can be given simultaneously for several learned and technical 
professions, exactly as the primary schools prepare their pupils for 
every kind of calling. We are also still far too much inclined to as- 
sume that early education for a calling must necessarily be a narrow 
and one-sided education. Yet it lies in our power to make an educa- 
tion for a calling as many sided as any education can be. Well-nigh 
every calling, if treated with sufficient thoroughness, naturally in- 
volves an enlargement of the field of conception and activity. Science 
enters to-day into the simplest work and incites all possessed of the 
necessary gifts to develop their knowledge, their dexterity and their 
initiative. Indeed, experience has shown that the path of early edu- 
cation for a calling may lead to very much better results than the path 
of early general education with no definite calling as its goal. We 
might say, the useful man must be the predecessor of the ideal man. 
Every one must be able to do some good and thorough work, though 



146 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

it be of the simplest kind, of one sort or another. Not till then will 
he be able not only to satisfy his fellow men and be of use to his 
country, but also to make his own life of value to himself. And in 
the same measure as our lives gain value for ourselves, do we attain 
power to reach a higher stage of culture. 

If, then, the early education for a calling need by no means be one- 
sided or devoid of general value, if rather it is for most men, and 
especially for workers in industries, trades and traffic, well-nigh the 
only way to reach a higher stage of culture, it cannot be regarded as a 
private matter ; it becomes a matter of the community, a matter for 
the state. The reason for this does not lie in the advantages procured 
for any single branch of industry, but in the fact that this is the only 
road to civic education. Every one who lives in a state and enjoys its 
protection must contribute through his work, directly or indirectly, to 
further the object of the state as a community for purposes of justice 
and civilization. Not till then is he a useful member of the state. 
And there can be no doubt that it is the duty of all schools supported 
by public means to educate useful members of the state. 

Now, if every individual is to contribute by means of his work to the 
general welfare of the community, our first business must be to provide 
him with the best opportunities of developing his skill and capacity 
for work. But the development of skill in his calling must not be 
placed only in the service of industry, or limited by industry. Its 
first object is the development of a man's own joy in work, and thereby 
of his joy in life. For true joy in work can only grow out of real 
capacity for it. Thus the skill in work and the consequent joy in work 
that are cultivated in our trade schools prove themselves educational 
factors of the very highest importance. Through them we are able 
to appeal to the hearts of the boys and girls of our working classes. 
We can educate no one who is not happy in his work ; and this is the 
point where we can intimately combine general and technical educa- 
tion. And there is no other way of doing this. It is possible to make 
use of skill in work and joy in work in an absolutely egoistic sense, 
and it is in this egoistic sense, unfortunately, that most technical 
schools approach their task. They only concern themselves with 
the individual, whom they endeavor to make as skillful as possible, 
while they pay no attention to the class as a whole. This is also the 
weak side of the factory schools, which might otherwise be such 
admirable educational institutions for training intelligent and skillful 
workmen and artisans. It cannot be the interest of the manufacturer 
to give all his apprentices an equally good special and general educa- 
tion. He only concerns himself with the best among them, and 
not those with the best character, but with the best intelligence and 
manual skill. Public schools have a very different object. They can 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 147 

and they must accustom the pupil betimes to use his joy in work and 
his skill in work in the service of his fellow pupils and of his fellow men, 
as well as in his own. It is in their power to repress the general tend- 
ency of human nature to employ our gifts only for our own advan- 
tage. And it is their duty to repress this tendency, for if every one 
were to use his gifts only for his own advantage, there would be an end 
to all progress both for the industrial development of the nation and 
for the state as a whole. 

Pupils who have learned in schools of this kind to place their joy 
in work and their skill in work at the service of their comrades will 
then be able to learn the lesson that every school ought to teach, of 
uniting readiness of service, consideration for others, and loyalty, 
with insight into the aims of the state community. Naturally the 
limits of this insight will depend on the intelligence and age of the 
pupils. But even when the teacher is compelled to be content with 
little, the public schools will always have means to accustom its pupils 
to the habitual exercise of civic virtues. 

Our present schools have not yet fully grasped the meaning of this 
threefold task : first, education to skill in work and joy in work ; 
secondly, education to readiness of service, consideration for others, 
and loyalty to schoolfellows and to the school ; and, thirdly, educa- 
tion to insight into the aims of the state community. Well-organized 
schools fulfill the first task, the development of personal capacity. It 
still remains to enlarge them to schools for social service, and our most 
important task is to provide such schools for the mass of the popula- 
tion, based on training for a trade. 

But the schools for the vast majority of our fellow citizens, the real 
schools of the people, do not even suffice to fulfill the first task, for they 
leave off precisely at the point at which education by means of and for 
a special calling begins. This is the same in the United States as in 
Germany. Not only the struggle for life, but also the struggle for edu- 
cation, commences for millions of our countrymen at the age of four- 
teen. The doors of the primary school have closed for them ; the 
doors of a higher school open only to the favored few. The competi- 
tion for daily bread drives the half-grown boys and girls into the 
market. They take what they find. True, the question of the 
children's future has peered out of the background in the mind of their 
parents and relatives, but there has been no time to answer it. Their 
eyes are fixed on the necessities of the moment. Posts are valued at 
the salary they offer, however unfavorable the conditions may be for 
intellectual or moral development. Some few have the force of 
character to struggle through untoward circumstances. Their intelli- 
gence, their will power, perhaps also their home training, gives them 
strength to overcome the forces that drag men down. Some few 



148 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

have the good fortune to get into a factory or shop that has a natural 
interest in well-trained workmen. Some few find employers who 
do not regard the young hand as a cheap workman, but as a human 
being who must be educated. But the innumerable mass of weaker 
and less fortunate youths, of whom thousands and thousands are also 
valuable human material, and the innumerable mass of real capacity, 
that find no warm-hearted employer and no employment demanding 
intellect, drift like shipwrecked men on the stormy ocean. Some 
reach the haven, after a loss of many years ; the majority lead a life 
never brightened by the sun of joy in work. No one has ever taught 
them to seek the true blessing of work. No one has ever taken the 
trouble to point them to anything farther ahead than the daily task 
by which they must earn their bread their whole lives long. People 
tell us industry requires thousands of hands fit to perform the same 
manipulation with the same unerring skill hour by hour, month by 
month, year by year. I fully believe that industry does require them. 
Division of labor is the vital element of industry. But industry is 
not the aim of human society. The aim of society is the increase of 
justice and culture. And if industry permanently continues recklessly 
to disregard this aim, it becomes a danger, not only for the state, but 
also, in the end, for itself as well. A democratic or even a constitu- 
tional state that is ruled exclusively by the lust of gain, by money and 
the machine slaves that money buys, is doomed to inevitable ruin, as 
soon as the natural riches of the soil become exhausted and the popu- 
lation becomes too dense. Even the industrial state cannot dispense 
with strong moral forces. These forces grow, but not in a people of 
machine slaves and money princes. Moral forces, like skill in work, 
grow on no other soil than that of joy in work. 

Now it cannot be one of the first objects of industry to further the 
development of a country's moral forces. Its first object is the profit- 
able use of economic forces. The struggle for existence compels it 
to strain these forces to the uttermost, to press the greatest manual 
and intellectual capacity into its service, and therefore to train its 
workmen to the highest degree of dexterity. The capital invested in 
it clamors with reckless insistence for its interest. No one has better 
represented the psychology of gain-seeking capital than the great 
English painter George Frederick Watts in his picture " Mammon," 
that hangs in the Tate Gallery in London. It is true that capital 
rings untold blessings to men. But it rarely unveils this second 
face until it has ceased to be capital hungering for increase or until 
it has discovered, as it must sooner or later discover, that the third 
factor, moral capacity, cannot be neglected with impunity. And 
even after this chscovery it long seeks to defend its position by ever 
stronger accentuation of the need of pure skill, sometimes even until 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 149 

it is too late for its own undertakings and for the state that has left 
it free play. 

There is no escape from this natural fate of industry but state 
intervention, not too long postponed, to supplement the one-sided 
education afforded by industry, trade and trafl&c. It is, in fact, an 
entirely new duty that has arisen for the community since the eco- 
nomic revolutions of the last century. It arose not only in the interests 
of industry, but in the most vital interests of the community itself. 
It is the imperative duty of the state to create school organizations 
which deal with the trade training of boys and girls, which enter into 
the question with the utmost thoroughness, enlarging and deepening 
it, and thereby awakening in boys and girls many sided capacity for 
work and a living joy in work. 

It will not be the object of this new school to replace the training 
now given in the practical work of factory and handicraft. It is 
impossible to replace the school of life, hard and yet so efficient, quite 
apart from the fact that it would be a financial, economic and social 
impossibility to remove all youthful workers from workshops, offices 
and factories, in order to train them in special schools. It is true 
there are some such schools that are intended to take the place of 
apprenticeship. We find them in all civilized states. But they are 
exceptions. As exceptions they may sometimes do good work, but 
seldom in the sense for which they were founded. For the better such 
handicraft and industrial schools are organized, the more surely do 
they outstep their intended limits. Their pupils are no longer satis- 
fied with the position of workmen, and even those among them whose 
intelligence and skill give them no claims to high posts nevertheless 
seek to attain them. 

The schools that we are considering here are continuations of the 
primary schools, and they can be organized in various ways. I say, 
they are a continuation of the compulsory primary school ; that is to 
say, a school compulsory without exception for all who do not go 
to a higher school. The continuation schools accompany boys and 
girls during their apprenticeship to a trade, and do not forget those 
who are forced to spend the springtime of their lives as day laborers, 
messenger boys and unskilled workmen, far from the paradise of joy 
in work. They fulfill two purposes: first, youthful workers and ap- 
prentices are still at the disposal of trade and industry ; second, no 
citizen of the state is left without an education extending up to his 
eighteenth year. The completeness of the school organization de- 
pends on the means which society can provide for the purpose and 
on the sacrifices which commerce, trade and industry are ready and 
able to make. The schools are not merely technical or trade schools. 
They only make use of the pupil's trade as the basis of their educa- 



I50 • SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

tional work. The trade training which they give is not the object 
of the school. However thorough this training in a continuation 
school, for instance in Munich, is, it is still only the starting point for 
the wider general training, for the education in practical and theo- 
retical thinking, in consideration for others, in devotion to common 
interests, in social service for the state community. 

We Germans call them simply continuation schools. The conviction 
of their necessity for the whole life of the state has taken possession of 
the entire population more and more during the last twenty years. In 
South Germany there is no city or town, however small, without one 
such school, at least for all boys. In North Germany the great 
industrial town of Essen is the only larger town in which such a school 
is wanting. These schools are compulsory in Bavaria, Wiirttemberg, 
Sachsen, Baden, and Hessen, for both town and country population, 
up to the age of sixteen, seventeen or eighteen. They are not every- 
where of equal educational value. There are still many town execu- 
tives that have not yet been able to relinquish the old traditions out 
of which the schools arose as places for repetition of elementary school 
work. Not all those who are called upon to give judgment in this 
matter are thus far penetrated by the deep conviction that they have 
to deal with an independent school organism, requiring exactly the 
same budget, the same solicitude, and the same possibilities of expan- 
sion, as the primary schools. But everywhere the organizations are 
progressing, everywhere the representatives of industry and trade 
are, with few exceptions, beginning to realize that this new form of 
school can prove a blessing whenever its inner organization adapts 
itself to the caUing of the boy or girl. Everywhere have these schools 
become an important affair of the towns and receive the willing sup- 
port of the governments. The state subsidies in Prussia, which 
amounted to half a million marks in 1885, had risen in 1908 to three 
millions. The number of schools in Prussia rose from 664, with 
58,000 pupils, to 2100 schools and 360,000 pupils. In Wiirttemberg, 
a law was passed in 1906 requiring every town of over five thousand 
inhabitants to organize continuation schools for all apprentices in 
commerce, industry and trade. Bavaria is preparing a similar law 
to transform the compulsory Sunday school for apprentices, which 
has existed for the last hundred years, with two hours' instruction, 
into a continuation school with six hours' instruction, for many 
country parishes. The Bavarian towns have already established 
continuation schools everywhere. Many Swiss cantons, especially 
Zurich, have done the same, and some Austrian crownlands, espe- 
cially Lower Austria with the city of Vienna, have taken up the idea 
of developing the continuation school in the sense above indicated. 
In Vienna this autumn a central building has been opened for a con- 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 151 

tLauation school with something like sixty workshops, at a cost of 
eight million crowns. And in 1908, a law was passed in Scotland per- 
mitting every town to establish day continuation schools for appren- 
tices of both sexes. 

We must now consider from what points of view the organization of 
these schools must be undertaken. The question will be answered by 
the actual conditions under which the pupils live. If the continuation 
school, which can only take the pupils under its discipline for a small 
part of the week, is to exercise an educational influence on them, it 
must seek to take hold of the pupils by their egoistic interests in life, 
and to ennoble these interests in the process. The egoistic interests 
of the pupils are contained in their daily work. The conditions 
under which they carry on this work are, in most cases, very unfavor- 
able, especially when the pupils are workers in large industries. The 
best thing that the school can do here is to raise the pupils' joy in 
their work. By so doing, it is of use not only to the pupils, but also to 
the industry. But it can only raise the pupil's joy in work by placing 
the practical work of the pupil himself in the center of all school work 
and by teaching the pupil to execute it as thoroughly as possible, to 
think out the processes of the work, to give reasons for them, and to 
make himself master of them. Thus it must be the business of the 
school to group the organization of teaching round this work, which is 
carried on in special workshops, laboratories and other similar places. 
All other teaching, commercial, scientific, artistic and moral, is brought 
into intimate connection with it. This enables the school by degrees 
more and more to enlarge the purely technical and mechanical train- 
ing for a given calling and to let it take the form of ever widening 
intellectual and moral disciphne. Most industries and trades, as well 
as commerce and agriculture, allow of considerable development in 
these directions. The degree of general culture which the school can 
offer in these lines is not determined by the trade, but solely by the 
time which the school has at its disposal and the intellectual powers of 
the pupils. In spite of all solicitude for the general education of its 
pupils, the school always remains on the firm ground of the real hfe 
by which the pupil is daily and hourly surrounded. 

In all large towns and in all purely agricultural parishes it is always 
possible to gather most youthful workers together according to their 
calling in special continuation schools, in the center of which this 
calling stands. This kind of continuation school ought to be made 
compulsory for all boys and girls up to the age of seventeen or eighteen, 
or in any case as long as apprenticeship lasts. No reason exists why 
these schools should not be made compulsory. The state has estab- 
lished the compulsory primary school because it has recognized the 
necessity of a certain amount of culture for all the citizens of the state ; 



152 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

the same recognition must lead to the compulsory continuation school. 
There are certain duties that every citizen must take upon himself 
in the interest of the welfare of the state. 

The time to be allotted to the continuation school must depend on 
the means at its disposal. I can imagine cases in which it might 
amount to two or three hours daily. In Germany it varies from six 
to twelve hours a week. As long as it is not reduced to less than six 
hours weekly, quantity is less important than quality. The evening 
hours must be excluded. Evening schools can only be established 
for voluntary pupils. Those who possess sufficient intellectual, 
moral and physical strength will attend these evening classes in addi- 
tion to the morning school, and not only for a time, but consistently 
and regularly. The case is quite different for the majority of young 
persons, who do not possess this moral and intellectual power but 
nevertheless stand in need of education. For them it is of the first 
importance that instruction should take place during the day, within 
their hours of work, that the teacher may not have to deal with a will 
still further weakened by fatigue. In Germany, we have entirely 
given up holding compulsory continuation classes in the evening, 
when neither teacher nor pupil, especially in the winter months, 
is equal to his task. Most German states grant a subsidy only to 
towns that hold their continuation classes before seven o'clock in the 
evening. This is one of the cases in which sacrifices must be made 
by employers, by giving their apprentices the requisite time for school 
during the hours of work. The will to make this sacrifice was often 
extremely weak on the part of masters and manufacturers, but it 
received powerful support in the trade-regulation law of the German 
empire, issued in the year 1897. According to paragraph 120 of these 
regulations every employer is put under the obligation to dismiss his 
apprentices from work at the hours appointed by the town for school 
purposes, under penalty of fine. I must add that the masters and 
manufacturers, especially of south Germany, are almost unanimously 
reconciled to this order of things. Indeed some employers and guilds 
in Munich have offered to send me apprentices for longer instruction 
than the means at my disposal permitted me to provide. 

The joy in work which diffuses itself throughout these schools 
must not be placed only in the service of intellectual and technical 
training, but no less in the service of moral training, or, as I call it, 
of civic education. For this reason the instruction must be organized 
as early as possible from the standpoint of free community of labor. 
Only in this free community of labor can the two fundamental civic 
virtues be developed, namely, consideration for others and loyalty 
to others' work. The workshops of the continuatwn schools, as we 
have them in Munich, afford every facility for carrying out this sys- 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 153 

tern ; practical work leads in itself to the association of many hands 
for a common purpose, in other words, to communities of labor. 
But not only the practical instruction in school workshops and school 
gardens lends itself to this system; it can be applied with equal 
success to instruction in physics and chemistry, arithmetic, geometry, 
or gymnastics. Only at the first stage, when it is a question of ini- 
tiating the pupil into the elements of a subject, is it necessary to limit 
the instruction to him alone and seek to secure his individual prog- 
ress. The individual must have attained a certain degree of pro- 
ficiency before he can join a group for purposes of common action. 
That applies to the embryonic citizen as much as to the adult. But in 
all other respects, and in all schools, the whole plan of education must 
aim at turning as much school work as possible into work that can 
be done in common, at so arranging the tasks and the whole order 
of the schools that smaller or larger groups, or all the pupils together, 
are interested in the success of the work and are responsible for it. 

There are two other factors that serve this end in the continuation 
schools. The first is the association of pupils in groups for free com- 
munities of labor, for purposes of self-improvement, of amusement, or 
physical training, or of practical charity. This is nothing new in 
England or America. On the contrary, we in Germany are indebted 
to your schools in making it take root with us. We have nothing in 
our higher or lower schools to correspond to your leagues, societies, 
fraternities, gymnastic associations, debating clubs, clubs for musical 
purposes, etc. Many of these associations are admirably adapted 
for the continuation schools, and can be placed vmder the direct 
supervision of pupils themselves. It is possible to introduce a regu- 
lar system of self-government on other things as well into the continu- 
ation schools, if only one condition is fulfilled. The head of the 
school and his teachers must themselves be adept in the government 
of their own school and must know how to enlist the various student 
associations in the service of school interests. 

The second factor is the cooperation of the employers in the trade 
taught at the school, in the common fulfillment of the school tasks. 
This second factor has been little realized in Germany, generally not 
at all. In Munich, however, I have endeavored, wherever it was 
feasible, to gain the interest of the employers for the school by con- 
ceding them certain rights and imposing certain duties. I will tell 
the manner in which this was done in my second lecture. We must 
confess that the interest of employers in their apprentices' education 
has not increased during the last thirty years. We should gladly 
adopt every means in our power to awaken it afresh. The best plan 
is to induce the employers to make not only pecuniary, but also per- 
sonal, sacrifices for the school, even when the school is a public one. We 



154 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

do not value a thing until it has cost us something. By these means 
we enlarge the field of education and the community of labor at the 
same time. We accustom a greater number of persons through the 
school to take not only a commercial, but also a purely human, interest 
in the apprentices and to bear their share in the cares of education. 
The plan has proved itself an excellent one in most cases, though not 
in all. The general recognition that the Munich continuation schools 
now enjoy on all sides is in large part to be attributed to the adoption 
of this plan. 

When the continuation school has by these means become a true 
educational institution, not only for technical, but also for moral, edu- 
cation, then it will also have become a suitable medium for civic 
education and instruction. All teaching as to the aims and tasks of 
the state and the common interests of all members of the state has but 
little value as long as this teaching does not fall on ground already 
made receptive and fertile by corresponding habits of life. This 
applies especially to schools Hke the German continuation schools, 
with their limited hours of instruction and the quality of their pupils, 
who have so frequently received no good home training. The most 
thorough acquaintance with all the institutions of the state and all 
the duties and rights of the citizens does not in itself, as we know, 
sufifice to make a citizen. A man may even be an admirable teacher 
of civic science and first-class villain at the same time. We cannot 
develop character by teaching and precept until the organization of 
school and instruction has been laid out with the object of accustom- 
ing the pupil, as far as possible, to fair and upright dealing. As to the 
form that this civic teaching should take, I need say far less in your 
country than in Germany, where civic teaching was, until quite re- 
cently, an unheard-of thing, and where people have learned by degrees 
that civic teaching must become one of the fundamental tasks of all 
public schools as soon as the pupil is ready to receive it. I came 
across an excellent American book which showed me with how much 
common sense and insight this subject is already treated in your schools 
and which in my writings and speeches I have repeatedly recommended 
my German countrymen to study. It is the book of Dunn's entitled 
Community and Citizen, which appeared in the autumn of 1909. The 
book can be admirably applied to continuation schools, and I hope 
that some of my teachers in Munich will before long translate it into 
German, with the necessary revision of those parts that refer to exclu- 
sively American conditions. In my next lecture I propose to describe 
the details which show more clearly how we give civic instruction in 
our Munich continuation schools.^ The more we are able to base 
civic instruction on personal experience, that is, on the independent 

1 Vide School Review, April, 1911. 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 155 

investigations and observations of the pupils, the more productive it 
will become. 

The question remains whether the education of the masses which 
we call by the name of continuation school in Germany, and which we 
have realized in Munich and in some few country towns, is equally 
practicable in the United States. One great difficulty is doubtless 
the fact that in American trades and industries, if I am rightly informed, 
apprenticeship, as far as it still exists, does not begin before the age of 
sixteen, and that, therefore, so many of your boys and girls lose two of 
the years that would be most valuable for systematic education be- 
tween the primary school and the commencement of apprenticeship. 
It should be the first care of educators to fill this great gap, either by 
prolonging the term of elementary education or by letting apprentice- 
ship begin earlier, as it does in Germany. As a rule both boys and 
girls are ready to enter a calling at the close of their fourteenth year. 
In Germany, at least, we have no reason to be dissatisfied with our 
experience in this direction. From an educational point of view it is 
desirable to make fourteen the age for commencing, for there can be no 
doubt that working at a trade is, or might be, an essential factor in 
the formation of character. Nothing strengthens character more 
than honest trade work, and I agree entirely with Mr. Hamilton, 
who said in his speech at Harrisburg last February : — 

" The contribution that honest toil makes to the child character is 
just as rich, possibly, as that of any other specific line of school work. 
Earnest, self-directed effort is the base of all habit and the very corner 
stone of character. Nothing so crystallizes the crude charcoal of 
childhood into the diamonds of humanity as systematic self-directed 
effort." What we have to beware of is that this industrial work, this 
" honest toil," does not degenerate into drudgery. And this danger 
will be avoided when a well-organized continuation school keeps pace 
with the period of apprenticeship, giving it meaning and thoroughness, 
making it many sided, taking hold of and ennobling all its interests. 
Even the hardest work ceases to be a torment when we perform it 
with all our hearts. The introduction of industrial work or manual 
training into the upper classes of the primary school is without doubt a 
most useful undertaking in the interests of industrial education. We 
have long adopted this plan in Munich, although we have not carried 
it so far as the ecoles professionelles in Belgium and France. Indeed, 
from a social and economic standpoint it is much easier than the estab- 
lishment of well-organized continuation schools. For the elementary 
classes do not have to struggle against the egoism of employers. But 
this cannot take the place of well-developed continuation schools. 
For the aim and end of all this training cannot be merely industrial 
education. Its aim and end is the education of the man, whom it will 



156 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

not permit to be identified with and lost in the workman. And the 
modern state can never hope to become a state of culture and justice 
till it has succeeded, by the right manner of instruction, in restoring 
to work, robbed of its divinity by the advance of industry, its educa- 
tional powers. 

George Kerschensteiner, Superintendent of Schools, Munich. Reprinted by permission 
from The School Review, 19 : 162. 



Past, Present and Future of Industrial Education 

Dependence upon the Past. — In our educational practice there has 
been a universal dependence upon the interpretation of the past, and a 
general belief that an acquaintance with history, literature, art and 
Orientalism not only broadens the horizon, but also fits one to meet 
the changing conditions of modern life and gives an understanding 
of present-day problems. 

Such a policy has been expected to mark indelibly the various call- 
ings of life. With it a man was to become a truer citizen, a better 
employer, a more conscientious workman ; with it, the more a man 
would enjoy his work, whatever his trade or profession, the more in- 
clined he would be to fit in with the existing industrial order, and the 
more intelligently appreciative of his civic duties and responsibihties. 
More than twoscore years ago John Stuart Mill in a few words ex- 
pressed his conception of education as being " the culture which one 
generation gives to the next in order that the culture already existing 
may continue." 

Altogether it is an interesting philosophy. But is it not incomplete ? 
Has not the present generation obligations to the next quite apart 
from making it the beneficiary of past experience? Are we not ex- 
pected to make conscious effort to prepare boys and girls for the future 
not only by perpetuating what we believe is best in our civilization, 
but also by anticipating social and industrial conditions bound to 
exist in the future ? 

No Present Path leads to Craftsmanship. — In its industrial phases 
our present generation differs vastly from the last. We see that boys 
and girls have been led away from the crafts and the home and that 
they no longer desire to learn a trade of the shop or household ; and 
that individual skill and experience are largely disconnected in the 
monotonous toil of department store and factory. One of the noblest 
of callings, that of tilling the soil, has so far deteriorated in common 
estimation that a particularly awkward boy is derided by the term 
" farmer." We find our workers in the factory, in the counting room 
and in the store, regarding their work in terms of hours and wages, with 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 157 

little thought of craftsmanship, for which hours and wages are but the 
material symbols. 

The Call of Industry. — We have now confronting us a serious prob- 
lem. We are summoned by the constructive spirit of a busy world to 
work out a system of education which shall hold a definite and intimate 
relationship to the industrial activities of life — vast public and pri- 
vate enterprises which are enlisting every grade of human energy and 
skill, from the foreign alien and unskilled laborer, distinguished only 
by his badge and number, to the captain of industry. 

It is possible in a measure to anticipate some of the needs of the 
future. It will need, as does the present, a general intelligence, a 
refinement of manner and thought; in common with the present, it 
will need the exercise of hand skill, and it will need a new understanding 
of obligation in labor, to individuals and to the state. A thoughtful 
leader of workingmen has said that boys and girls need a training which 
will enable them to earn readily and honestly good wages which they 
must spend wisely. Now, earning readily implies a technical skill; 
earning honestly, the industrial exercise of the Golden Rule ; spending 
wisely, a training in manners, morals and taste. The technical skill 
alone of a craft is fairly easy to master. It is not difficult for a girl 
to learn to cook, but the art is not wholly mastered if not accompanied 
by habits of cleanliness, order and economy. To teach a boy to saw, 
to plan furniture, to adjust machinery, is a simple task compared with 
that of training in him a social conscience which will make him feel 
his obligations to his employer and the public. 

We have had for a quarter of a century some form of industrial work 
in our public schools, but its advocates have carefully avoided any 
vocational aspect it might have. It has found its place in the curricu- 
lum, and if at the present time that place be small, it is due in a large 
measure to the fact that its friends took the path of least resistance and 
allowed it to become merely a subject in the curriculum instead of 
providing it with an educational content which would make it worthy 
of a primary place in our schools. 

Handwork as a Handmaid. — Undoubtedly, the older conception 
of manual training was that of handmaid to the academic work of the 
school. If the pupil did not comprehend that two and one half and 
three and three fourths made six and one fourth by the use of arith- 
metical processes, it was considered a profitable task to prove to him 
the result in the making of a box. If he did not display honesty, 
neatness and painstaking effort in writing a composition or taking care 
of his school desk, many a teacher of manual training asserted that he 
would acquire these qualities if he made a taboret. If he did not like 
to soil his hands by carrying coal for his mother, or developed a dis- 
taste for chopping kindlings, then sawing boards and driving nails in a 



158 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

schoolroom would create a love for manual labor and a belief in its 
dignity. Such manual training has not, and never will have, any effect 
on industries or the education of industrial workers, for it is founded 
on a false basis — to accomplish something in a schoolroom by doing 
something else. No one can rightly assert that the present courses in 
handwork in our public schools have no educational, industrial or 
social value. They were originally introduced as a part of a new 
system of education, but either through a general misunderstanding 
of their import, or because the times were not ripe, they have become 
merely, as one has aptly phrased it, " a sort of mustard relish, an appe- 
tizer " — to be conducted without reference to any industrial end. 

Manual vs. Industrial Training. — At present there is much conten- 
tion over the relative value of manual training and industrial education. 
Regardless of terminology, the right kind of hand training in the schools 
must not only develop in the pupil an absorbing interest in his work 
and a consciousness of its value, but must give him a sense of his indi- 
vidual relation to the whole industrial system. But the teaching of 
the use of tools in a corner of a school building for one period a week, 
with no definite industrial purpose in mind, has about as much rela- 
tion to industrial training as the making of a coat hanger has to con- 
structing a modern battleship. 

Industrial training need not have technical skill as its only goal, and 
yet the training for skill must be recognized as of primary importance 
in establishing a proper relation of handwork to industrial life. Skill is 
not the only element that contributes to the value of the result ; it also 
involves the way in which the result is reached. For true efficiency 
there must be no waste of time or energy ; there must be a straight- 
to-the-goal method of working. Courses in handwork should imply a 
developing of the process of observation and initiative, of a desire for 
personal excellence of workmanship; of an attitude of mind, both 
social and industrial. These qualities of head, hand and heart should 
be at the base of every call for service, whether it be under the name of 
manual training or industrial education. 

Some Definite Needs. — We are still wandering in the tall grass in 
a search for some phase of education that will make for industrial 
efficiency. Before determining the procedure which will bring about 
the desired end, we may well ask ourselves the question, What is de- 
manded in the industrial world? A prominent manufacturer, speak- 
ing with the authority of a national textile organization, recently stated 
that while the advanced textile schools which could cover more ad- 
vanced work than our public schools were of great advantage, it still 
remained true that the preliminary operations of the factory do not 
require a high order of technical skill ; that processes easily acquired 
when young are almost beyond attainment after a certain age, and 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 



159 



that a grown woman can never learn to spin deftly — that the mental 
requirements are essentially those of discipline. It would thus ap- 
pear that while there is need for special textile schools, there is a larger 
demand for supple fingers and general intelligence — for the training 
practicable in the public schools. In the machine trades the call is for 
a number of broadly trained men, a relatively larger proportion of 
skilled men to unskilled men than is required in any other industry. A 
machinist and a pattern maker need to have considerable ability to 
read drawings, to adjust special tools and fixtures, and to interpret 
mathematical tables and formulae. Managers in these trades point 
to the growing demand for special machines which the industry is called 
upon to build and to the ever increasing use of automatic machinery. 
They claim, however, that this development will not eliminate the me- 
chanic of general and broad training. The perfection of machinery 
calls for more intelligence to make and repair the highly perfected 
machine. It is true that the mechanic of to-day needs a special train- 
ing ; but he also needs as a foundation for this the general mechan- 
ical principles taught in the public schools. The shoe industry points 
to a need of workers with a dexterity of hand, arm and back which will 
allow the body to adapt its movements to those of the machine, the effi- 
cient workman being one who keeps step with his machine in its speed 
and its varying motions of mechanical parts. This industry, in com- 
mon with textiles, demands a few specially trained men, but the great 
cry is for workers with dexterity and character. In the jewelry and 
art metal industry there is a call for more workers with an art sense, 
with power to originate and execute products with distinctive features 
in order that we may have a handicraft, individual and typical. The 
workers in the forest, in the mine, the multitude of laborers in our 
public enterprises of subways, streets and railroads speak for them- 
selves, for so far no one has included these vast numbers of workers in 
any scheme of technical training. They cry out for shorter hours, 
more pay, a living wage, a higher standard of living. For the most 
part their education will not go beyond that drawn from the elementary 
schools. For these, handwork in our public schools can do much ; it 
can develop a standard of labor ship which must be the foundation of any 
true improvement in the condition of our so-called unskilled laborers. 

Broadly speaking, every one needs to be trained to work, to like it 
and to do it well. Labor as a factor in education is too important a 
principle in individual development to be longer ignored. We must 
not have our boys and girls spend so much time with their books that 
they will miss an education. In too many cases education is a means 
to an end — the avoidance of work. 

Intelligence, Adaptability and Appreciation. — Careful analysis of 
the movement for industrial education will show that it springs from 



i6o SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

two sources: first, from the skilled industries, those trades where 
specialized machinery with its differentiation of processes has made so 
many machine tenders while eliminating the all-round mechanic fitted 
for duties of supervision; and second, from all industries, both skilled 
and unskilled, where there is a need for intelligence, adaptability and 
general appreciation of work. What is demanded is not only technical 
skill, but a proper attitude of mind. The president of a large railroad 
remarked in a recent statement that every raise of wages had seemed 
to be accompanied with a decreased efl&ciency. The heads of indus- 
tries which] require but few skilled workers when asked what industrial 
education should do for the mass of their employees, usually enter 
into a discussion of present-day inefficiency, incompetency and irrespon- 
sibility, implying that the public schools are at fault. When pressed 
for a solution of the problem and for a definite suggestion, they offer 
some such one as this: Give the pupils an understanding of the indus- 
trialism of the city, tell them about the raw material, where it comes 
from, how it gets to the city, the way it is manufactured, the value of 
the finished product, the part that labor, the investment and the 
capitalist play in his process. In short, give industrialism a background 
that the workers may grow to be interested in and feel themselves a 
part of the industries that employ them. 

With equal force much might be said with reference to the attitude of 
the employing public toward labor and those who express it. A no- 
tion exists, altogether too prevalent, that education leading to labor 
is for the son of the " other fellow." When one mentions the subject 
of training for efficiency, the lawyer, the machinist, the minister and 
the farmer all stand in a circle with their index finger pointing to the 
man at their right. 

Arousing the Social Consciousness. — The time has come for a for- 
ward step in education, and the significance of the new movement look- 
ing to the establishment of industrial and trades schools may be 
measured by the following brief survey of the present status of indus- 
trial education. 

As has been well stated by Professor Elliot of the University of Wis- 
consin, " the trend of the development of our public school system is 
determined by the mutual reaction of two forces: first, a static public 
sentiment which would leave the existing order undisturbed; second, a 
progressive consciousness of the new needs of contemporary Hf e which 
constantly endeavors to embody itself in legislation." This arousing 
of the social consciousness is nowhere better illustrated than in the 
endeavor to adjust the American school system to the needs of the 
new industrial order. This endeavor has recorded itself on the legis- 
lative annals in a number of plans for the elevation of the standards of 
industrial efficiency. But, of course, laws of themselves do not spon- 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION i6i 

taneously develop high standards of educational efl&ciency, and such 
efficiency is not likely to come through the unstimulated activity of 
public opinion. The National Society for the Promotion of Industrial 
Education has done much to arouse national interest ; for localities 
and varied interests need energizing through progressive state legis- 
lation which recognizes that education is a concern of the state and not 
merely a local responsibility. 

Beginning with the Commission created in Massachusetts in 1905 
" to consider the needs for technical education in the different grades 
of industrial skill and responsibility," six other states have inaugurated 
special investigations upon this problem. Already the report of this 
Commission has served to stimulate activity for the reconstruction of 
old-school programs and the projection of schools with entirely new 
bases and ends. 

Typical State Movements. — From the very considerable number of 
legislative enactments having to do with practical and technical train- 
ing in schools of elementary and secondary grade, the following may be 
mentioned as t5^ical, no attempt being made to cover all legislation 
dealing with the subject. The state of Connecticut has established 
two public trade schools, money for the support of the same being 
provided for from public funds. These schools are located at New 
Britain and Bridgeport. Recently the legislatures of Georgia and 
Utah passed resolutions recommending appropriations by Congress for 
industrial education. By doing this they hope to throw all the finan- 
cial responsibility on the national government. However, in 1906, the 
first-mentioned state provided for district schools of agriculture and 
mechanic arts. Maryland, in 1908, provided state aid to establish 
commercial courses in approved high schools. Massachusetts, in 1909, 
reorganized its State Board of Education and abolished its Industrial 
Education Commission. But the new Board was required by law to 
have in its membership one representative of the former Commission. 
A Deputy Commissioner of Education has been selected to have special 
charge of the field of industrial education. Michigan and Mississippi 
have passed laws providing for the establishment of country schools 
of agriculture, manual training and domestic economy. In a revision 
of the education laws of New York State in 1910, provision was made 
for the establishment of agricultural and homemaking schools, as well 
as general industrial and trade schools previously provided for and 
supported partly by the state and partly by the locality. New Jersey 
has followed closely the experience of Massachusetts, having a special 
commission which investigated the matter of industrial education and 
afterwards having the new movement incorporated into the older State 
Board. Oklahoma, in 1908, created a system of agricultural and indus- 
trial education, while Wisconsin provided in 1907 for the establishment 



i62 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

of trade schools within the state, including a state mining trade 
school as well as such other schools typifying the various industries 
in the state as local communities saw fit to establish. A trade school 
has been established at Milwaukee, and at present a state commission 
is working out a propaganda for a wide extension of such schools all 
over the state. This state in common with Minnesota has a compre- 
hensive scheme of secondary agricultural education with partial state 
support. 

Significance of National Appropriations. — There has been a marked 
movement towards advancing the interests of agricultural colleges. 
The influence of this legislation, according to Professor Elliott in his 
review of recent educational legislation for a bulletin of the New York 
State Library, has been in three principal directions : first, extraordi- 
nary appropriations for the conduct of special investigations and in- 
struction, including extension work, forestry, mining, horticulture, soil, 
poultry raising and dry farming ; second, the establishment of new 
schools ; and, third, the organization of instruction for the training of 
teachers of agriculture and other industrial subjects. Perhaps noth- 
ing more clearly shows the phenomenon of the action and reaction of 
legislation and public opinion than a recent and most significant move- 
ment indicating that the federal government, through Congress, is 
likely to become a large and direct influence upon the general educa- 
tional system of this country, for there has been introduced in both the 
59th Congress and the 60th Congress a number of bills providing for 
the promotion of instruction in agriculture, mechanic arts and domestic 
economy through federal aid. Unless one has given it some thought, 
he is in the habit of regarding federal legislation as having but a very 
remote relationship to the expansion and progress of education at large 
in the United States. It is time that our educators wake up to the 
fact that we are establishing precedents with reference to educational 
administration which may have an important bearing upon a national 
system of education. Unconsciously, but no less rapidly, we are 
moving toward a more or less centralized governmental control of 
educational institutions, for notwithstanding the absence of direct 
federal participation in this control, the sum of $14,500,000 annually 
paid from national appropriations for colleges of agriculture, mechanic 
arts, agricultural experiment stations and for education in the District 
of Columbia seems to be a justification for regarding congressional ac- 
tion as an already active factor in the support and development of 
particular and special educational activities of no small significance 
to the country as a whole. At the present time the United States De- 
partment of Agriculture is a more important educational factor than 
the United States Bureau of Education. Where it will end, no one 
can predict. The hopeful aspect of all this national and state agita- 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 163 

tion toward a movement for industrial and agricultural education is 
that it points out that education is not merely to be that which the 
local public sentiment of the present generation apparently wants, 
but that it is to be that which the oncoming generation will un- 
doubtedly need. Evidently, educational inertia in either municipality 
or state is not to be allowed to hinder national progress in agricultural 
and industrial development. 

A Popular Movement. — The increasing interest in the subject of 
industrial education has expressed itself in the editorial columns of the 
public press ; in state and local federations of women's clubs, and in 
national and state gatherings of teachers. New school buildings all 
over the country are being planned to provide space for shops and do- 
mestic science laboratories. The people of all communities, through 
men's clubs, boards of trade, manufacturers' associations and farmers' 
granges, have come together to consider the question. It is clearly 
evident to one who makes a broad survey that the movement for this 
form of education is tremendously significant, and that it means much 
more than would be conveyed by the mere titles. It would seem that 
apart from the direct questions of establishing industrial and trades 
schools, the term " industrial education " in the minds of the mass of 
our people simply means the redirecting of our public schools through 
recognizing that they must be adapted to the needs of our people and 
that their subject matter must be taught with an economic, as well 
as a social, purpose in mind. 

Evolution, not Revolution. — In analyzing the arguments presented, 
it is safe to say that the fundamental principles of industrial education 
are in keeping with the principles of all effective education, which are 
in brief: that all effective teaching results from, develops out of, or is 
connected with, the experience of the child ; that this experience should 
have relation to vocations or to the pupil's part in life; that every 
school should be the natural expression of the life of its community. 
Moreover, industrial education used in its broadest sense is in no way 
antagonistic to the general function of all education which is to de- 
velop and train the mind. 

Present Contentions. — When it is first presented, no subject seems 
to lead to quite so much contention as industrial education. At the 
present time all are aroused over it, and some are much disturbed. In 
gatherings of educators we find that apparently there are lacking clear 
definitions of the respective fields of " handwork in public schools," 
"industrial schools," "vocational schools" and " trade schools;" 
there is a confusion as to its content as to whether it includes agricul- 
tural, industrial and commercial training. In local communities there 
is a fear of making a beginning, the fact being lost sight of that the best 
in our education has developed out of pedagogical experience and 



1.64 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

not out of mere discussion. Discussions in public meetings develop 
questions as to the relative attitudes of manufacturers, labor leaders 
and business men. In the council chambers of national leaders in 
education, such questions arise as to whether industrial education shall 
be in the hands of our present state boards of education or regents, or 
in the hands of special boards or commissions ; whether it is to be in- 
corporated in special schools or in present existing schools; whether 
trade schools are to be supported by funds received from regular sources 
or from special sources. Where schools have been started, many 
points have to be considered, such as the question of making articles 
of marketable value ; and, if so, whether they shall be sold ; whether 
these schools shall cooperate with employers through some half-time 
arrangements, etc. In fact, difficulties present themselves in a hun- 
dred ways, and much honest difference of opinion exists. These and 
many other problems are fully discussed in the various chapters which 
follow. 

An Earnest Attempt. — It would seem as though the reason for this 
honest variance of opinion was easily explained. Education is begin- 
ning to have a real meaning ; it is beginning to teach subject matter 
in terms of actual daily life. We are making our first serious attempt 
to meet, in any complete sense, pressing economic, industrial and social 
problems. When we attempt to study the significance of industry 
upon the life of our people, we find that the social and economic prob- 
lems involved are exceedingly puzzling. In the past it was a com- 
paratively easy task to develop an educational scheme in accord with 
the ideal of Mill. But to-day we soon find that the moment we at- 
tempt to connect our schools with our industries and the vocations of 
our people, we are confused by the demands made upon the schools. 
But we must not hesitate. 

A New Conception. — In America, public education is a passion, and 
rightly so. We shall go forward in our attempt to adjust our schools 
to the needs of our children and our industries. But just how we shall 
do it is a problem. Many points must be considered. We must know 
something of the significance of industry upon the life of our people, 
of the new position women are taking in the economic world, of the 
trades-union movement, of the educational work now being organized 
under private initiative in factories and stores, and a score of subjects 
hitherto considered as being outside of the province of teachers and 
school administrators. 

It is a large matter and one of deep concern. It means much more 
expense for public education. It involves a new chapter in our educa- 
tional theory. It means a serious study of other educational systems. 
It suggests radical changes in schoolhouses and courses. It necessi- 
tates the training of a different class of teachers. Meanwhile, before 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 165 

that can be commenced, or while it is being done, there will be much 
breaking out of new roads, a consolidation of public sentiment, and new 
laws written upon the statute books. It is a movement full of promise, 
and some day in its fulfillment, unhampered by educational precedent 
or dogma, it will be possible for any one to receive instruction in any 
subject at any time. Nothing less can be acceptable in an American 
democracy. 

Reprinted from Chapter I, The Worker and the State, by Arthur D. Dean. Courtesy 
of the Century Company. 

Summary on Industrial and Vocational Education 

Of the various present-day extensions of educational activity, none 
are more important from a social point of view than those which have 
to do with industrial and vocational training. This implies, of course, 
that it is important also to the individual from whatever point of view 
he may be regarded — whether as a producer in the narrow economic 
sense, or intellectually and morally. In the preceding paper by Dr. 
Kerschensteiner, the broad social need and many of the underlying 
principles of industrial training are stated so forcefully and so clearly 
that it is not necessary to restate them in this summary. Through 
the annotated bibliography and topics for study which follow, the 
student will find many suggestions as to different aspects of the prob- 
lem both in principle and practice which are pressing upon the modern 
world for solution. 

Among the significant things which are to-day finding more and 
more frequent expression, is, first of all, the conviction that in all 
phases of education the pupil stands in need of more adequate moti- 
vation in his work. The tasks imposed by the school are too largely 
thrust upon him from without. They make too little appeal to the 
strong, innate impulses present in every healthy-minded boy and girl 
to do something, to he something. Hence, as President Eliot well says, 
"It is for the benefit of the individual to bring into play at the 
earliest possible moment the motive of the life career, because that is a 
strong motive and a lasting one." ^ There is a clear recognition, also, 
on the part of an increasing number of educators that the training of a 
boy or girl need not be the less cultural or broadening because it is 
dominated by a vocational purpose. 

1 The Conflict between CoUeciivism and Individualism in a Democracy, p. 45. 



1 66 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

To be sure, the " motive of a life career " as such cannot be clearly 
present in the minds of children in their earlier school years, but it 
must be nurtured and developed, and, as they approach the beginnings 
of the adolescent period, it should take fairly definite shape. At the 
close of the grammar school period industrial and vocational train- 
ing should begin to receive definite attention. It is at this point that 
the weakness, or deficiency, of traditional types of education is most 
of all manifest. It is here that the mistaken ideals of all elementary 
education begin to bear their fruit. In the neglected years between 
fourteen and eighteen occurs the appalling waste that those with 
a larger view of the social responsibilities of education are seeking 
to-day to prevent by vocational and continuation schools. As one 
has well said : "It seems strange that all oversight of children ceases 
when they go to work, strange that the state has not considered it a 
duty to look after their education at the critical period of their exist- 
ence. Then, if ever, they need moral guidance and ideals kept stead- 
ily before them. That is the time they feel their deficiencies and need 
instruction and direction. Then they need to be taught to apply 
what they know to a practical situation. Then their attitude is de- 
termined, and they will become mere drudges, shirks and outcasts, 
or will acquire that joy in work which will transform their task into 
an interesting vocation and themselves into interested and ambitious 
craftsmen." ^ 

It is no longer true, as it was in a measure in the earlier decades of 
our national life, that the common school education is all that society 
needs bestow upon its children to enable them to become efficient and 
self-supporting citizens. The various industries, and all callings as 
well, are to-day so highly specialized and involve such a degree of tech- 
nical skill and preparation that the majority of boys and girls with 
merely the elementary training of the public schools cannot enter 
profitable vocations as they could fifty or even twenty-five years ago. 
Instead, those who leave school and go to work at the end of the com- 
pulsory school period fall inevitably into the unskilled class of workers, 
and there they are almost bound to remain. Modern society has de- 
veloped a long list of purely juvenile occupations of which those of the 
messenger and the elevator boy are typical. They offer attractive 

^Dyer, School Review, May, igii. 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 167 

possibilities to the youngster. The small wage, to his limited vision, 
is a bonanza. But the work is in no sense a preparation for anything 
better. When the boy becomes a young man and realizes the neces- 
sity of engaging in more profitable work, he finds himself less capable, 
if anything, of advancing into it. His earlier work was not a prepara- 
tion for anything better. It has, furthermore, stultified his powers 
at a time when they should have been under development. 

A proper appreciation of vocational education presupposes as a 
background some knowledge of social significance of vocations. That 
there is too often a lack of clear thinking along this line is indicated by 
the fact that when education for vocation is advocated, some one nearly 
always raises the cry that the idea is low, commercial and utilitarian. 
This cry is especially likely to come from exponents of that type of 
education which has prevailed in the past. It is not strange, after 
all, that this should be the case, for it has been the mission of the 
schoolmaster for many generations to uphold the desirability of those 
types of training and culture which were not directly connected with 
breadwinning. It was only thus that he could convince the boy that 
he shoiild go to school at all. The home, the shop and the farm, where 
the practical side of life was uppermost, were always pulling him away 
from the school and the master. They were able to furnish all the 
practical training the youth needed for the relatively simple indus- 
trial life about him. Before the era of compulsory elementary edu- 
cation it was easy for people to look at the training furnished so well 
by practical life as almost, if not quite, sufficient for one at least who 
did not intend to enter one of the professions. For the ordinary man 
or woman it was easy to think that a very small amount of formal 
schooling was sufficient, and that in some cases it might even be neg- 
lected altogether. There were always a large number of men to 
whom one could point who had succeeded without any schooling. And 
yet the school did stand for values that were real, even though success 
in life seemed often to be achieved without its help. It is not strange 
that the schoolmaster should, under these conditions, come to look 
with distrust upon the practical interests of life, and that he should 
undervalue the part they played in the development of the youth. 
It is not strange that he should set his work sharply over against that 
of home, farm and shop as having to do with culture rather than utility, 



1 68 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

and that he should even come to regard real education as identical 
with the culture training of the school. All other training was merely 
utilitarian. He felt keenly, and he tried to make it clear to society 
also, that the school stood for something distinctly different from, and 
even higher than, utility. 

It is needless to say that lack of sympathy between the school and 
vocational utility, unfortunate as it was, was incidental to a peculiar 
combination of circumstances. We are convinced to-day that there 
is no real disparity between them, that both are necessary in a com- 
plete education and in an age such as ours, when the utility side is no 
longer adequately provided for by outside forces ; the school must dis- 
miss its old prejudice and provide an education that is both cultured 
and utilitarian. 

A little reflection upon the social meaning of vocations will furnish 
a sound basis in principle for the social need of the practical in edu- 
cation. 

(i) Vocations are natural products of social progress. They repre- 
sent necessary specializations or divisions of labor, inevitable as 
society increases in complexity. 

(2) They are absolutely essential to the maintenance of civilized 
society. The functions of civilization are so complex and require so 
much skill that they can be carried on only by persons especially 
trained and devoted to them. 

(3) Vocations have a deep moral and intellectual significance for 
the individual and hence for society as well, {a) Consider the moral 
value for the individual of his having something definite to do, some- 
thing engrossing to his attention, something which serves to utilize 
a large part of his mental and physical energy. This moral value is 
especially prominent in skilled work. A skilled worker gains a certain 
sense of personal worthfulness which is a most important element 
in the building of a substantial moral character as well as in the de- 
velopment of a socially efiicient individual, {h) The moral value 
of a vocation is particularly in evidence in the fact that the reforma- 
tion of delinquents and criminals is accomplished in large part through 
training them in some line of productive skilled work. The criminal 
is almost always one who has not learned to contribute in any valu- 
able way to the satisfaction of genuine human needs. The best refor- 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 169 

matories offer definite opportunities for vocational training, (c) The 
moral importance of the vocation may be appreciated by studying the 
social and moral degeneration of the so-called " higher classes," those 
who have never felt the stress of any economic necessity. One of 
the greatest problems of vast wealth arises out of its tendency to 
throw out on society large numbers of rich nonproducers, veritable 
social parasites. Such persons easily become moral degenerates. 
(d) The moral as well as the economic betterment of the negro in 
this country is to-day recognized as depending largely upon his 
being trained in a definite vocation. Booker T. Washington says : 
*' From both a moral and a religious point of view, what measure of 
education the negro has received has been repaid, and there has been 
no step backward in any state. Not a single graduate of the Hamp- 
ton Institute or the Tuskegee Institute can be found to-day in any jail 
or state penitentiary. . . . The records of the South show that 
90 per cent of the colored people in prison are without knowledge of 
the trades, and 61 per cent are illiterate." ^ 

With reference to the intellectual side, it would not be an exaggera- 
tion to say that a large part of the development of human knowledge 
has occurred directly or indirectly in connection with the exigencies of 
vocational activity. The fundamental human interest in economic 
problems is suggestively illustrated by the fact that boys who fail to 
be interested in ordinary school work will often succeed admirably 
when put into vocational schools. In some states, however, the only 
opportunity a boy or girl has to learn a useful trade at public expense 
is through the gate of physical or intellectual defect or of moral de- 
linquency. An element so valuable for the training of the abnormal 
or defective child can hardly be left out of account in the training of 
the normal child. The possibility is suggested, and it is worth con- 
sidering, that a large part of our present school work begins at the 
wrong end. However important the intellectual training is, does it 
not at every stage of the child's development need the ballast of active 
interests, interests which will become more and more vocational as the 
period of adolescence is approached.^ 

1 Working with the Hands, p. 235. 

' It is possible that the increased motivation which will be secured to school work by 
relating it more definitely to the needs of everyday life will silence such criticisms of the 



I70 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

In fine, a life calling is not to be described as merely commercial. 
To be sure, it is bound up with the necessity of gaining a livelihood for 
one's self and one's family. But even this is of the highest social 
importance. No greater calamity could come to society or to the 
individual than the elimination of vocational activities and vocational 
incentives. They are, as we have pointed out, normal avenues of 
human expression and necessities for a well-balanced human nature. 

If the relative importance of liberal education and vocational train- 
ing were to be determined merely on the ground of historical priority, 
the judgment would easily be in favor of the latter. Vocational 
education, as Snedden says, is really " older than liberal education for 
the simple reason that men have always had to have occupations in- 
volving more or less skill, by which they could earn a livelihood." ^ 
In savage states of culture this came largely through imitation and 
incidental suggestion and through learning by trial and error to hunt, 
prepare food, dress skins and crudely to till the soil. With the advent 
of more complex arts the system of apprenticeship, in many ways the 
most perfect system of vocational training, naturally developed. In 
other words, in all present discussions of the social need of such train- 
ing it is worth bearing in mind that "vocational education, more or 
less unorganized and resting largely on native instincts and capacity, 
has always existed, that it tends to be organized under school con- 
ditions only where special demands or necessities exist ; and that from 
the standpoint of social necessity, vocational education given by some 
agency is indispensable." ^ 

PROBLEMS FOR DETAILED STUDY AND DISCUSSION 

I. What current social conditions are leading to a general demand 
for industrial training? Wood-Simons, Snedden, Dean, Carlton, 

Addams. 

work of public education as the following : The intelligence produced is inefficient and not 
worth the money spent (ex-President Eliot). The product is contemptible (Admiral 
Evans). Useless for business (Fisk). It has no profitable relation to applied science 
(Edison) . Eminently successful in turning out uniformly stupid types, void of originality 
(Benson and Frederic Harrison). The biggest failure of modern times (Hirsch). Vide 
Johnston, "The Social Significance of Various Movements for Industrial Education," Edu- 
cational Review. February, 1909. 

^ Problem of Vocational Education, p. 9. * Snedden, op. cit., p. 13. 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 171 

2. Investigate as fully as possible the old apprenticeship system, 
its origin, social advantages and disadvantages, adaptation to the 
social needs of its period. Wright. 

3. Reasons for the present decay and disappearance of the appren- 
ticeship system. Wright, Wood-Simons. 

4. What is meant by "the industrial revolution"? Relation to 
educational problems ? 

5. Relation of the elimination of pupils from school to the ques- 
tion of industrial education. Jones, Thorndike. 

6. Study and state carefully the social waste and menace through 
the so-called juvenile occupations. Snedden, Dean, Bloomfield, 
Hanus, Massachusetts Commission, etc. 

7. The "unemployables," their origin and social menace. Bloom- 
field, Dean. 

8. At what period should the child's industrial or vocational 
training begin? Differentiation of earlier and later stages. Dean, 
Snedden, et al. 

9. Need of more attention to practical applications in the case of 
the so-called Hberal studies. Eliot, Dean, Snedden, etc. 

10. Relation of vocational to cultural education. Snedden, Dean, 
Kerschensteiner. 

11. Place a manual training in the present-day curriculum: a 
" hberal" or an industrial study. Snedden, etc. 

12. Relation of industrial and vocational education to the underly- 
ing principle of democracy, "equal rights to all, unequal privileges 
to none." 

13. Effect upon Germany of systematic industrial education since 
1870. 

14. Types of continuation schools in Munich. Hanus, Kerschen- 
steiner, Sadler. 

15. Attitude of organized labor toward industrial education. Dean, 
Wood-Simons, Jones. 

16. Describe systems of industrial and vocational training recently 
inaugurated in various American cities, e.g., in Cincinnati, Chicago, 
etc. 

17. Compare our systems with the better developed ones of Eng- 
land, Germany and other European countries. Hanus, Kerschen- 
steiner, Jones, Sadler. 

18. Need of cooperation of shop and school. Describe various 
methods of securing it. Dean, Dyer, Kerschensteiner, Snedden, 
Person, Orr. 

19. Is it just for the employer to criticize the public schools on the 
ground that the graduates are not immediately able to meet skillfully 
the technical requirements of his business? 



172 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

20. There is a widespread complaint on the part of employers that 
there is to-day a great dearth of skilled labor. Does any responsibility 
rest upon employers to help their young employees become skilled 
workmen? Bloomfield, Dean, etc. 

21. Should trade schools be under public or private control? 
Arguments for and against. Dean, Snedden, etc. 

22. Compare national and state control with local control. Snedden. 

23. Other problems in the administration of industrial and voca- 
tional training. Dutton and Snedden, Snedden, Dean. 

24. Distinction between industrial and vocational training? 

25. Estimate the various moral values of industrial training. 
Gillette, Dean, Washington. 

26. What light upon the value of industrial education may be 
obtained from modern types of education of delinquents, dependents, 
negroes, etc.? Gillette, Washington. 

27. Problems of industrial training pecuHar to women? Snedden, 
Dean, etc. 

28. What peculiar difficulties arise in connection with popular 
agricultural education? Snedden, Dean, etc. 

29. Work and limitation of evening schools; of the Y. M. C. A.; 
and of correspondence schools in promoting industrial education. 
Jones, etc. 

30. Influence of the recently developed system of "University 
Extension" upon the industrial upHft of the people. Study especially 
the Wisconsin system. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY ON VOCATIONAL AND INDUSTRIAL 
EDUCATION 

Addams, Jane. "Protection of children for industrial efficiency," in 
Newer Ideals of Peace. 

Bailey, L. H. "Education by means of agriculture in elementary 
and secondary schools," Cyclopedia of Agriculture, 4:3^2, 45i> 
467. An important and comprehensive reference. 

"On the training of persons to teach agriculture in the public 

schools," Bulletin No. i of the U. S. Bureau of Education, 1908. 

Balliet, Thos. M. "Aim of industrial teaching in the public school 
system," Am. S. B. Jour., January, 1909. A suggestive article. 

Bloomeield, Meyer. The Vocational Guidance of Youth, Riverside 
Educational Monograph. Boston,^ 191 1. Emphasizes inciden- 
tally the need of vocational education. 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 173 

Boone, R. G. ''Manual training as a socializing factor," £</., 22: 

395- 
Bricker. "Shall secondary agriculture be taught as a separate 

science?" Ed., 30:352. 

Buck, M. McC. "Work for the deformed. What is done to make 
crippled children useful members of society," Craftsman, 12 : 193. 

Bush-Brown, H. K. "The farm industrial school," Craftsman, 15 : 
167. The present system of education fits boys for country 
houses, shops, etc. 

"Work, study, and play for every child," Craftsman, 15:330. 

Natural environment of child not books, but work. 

Carlton, Frank T. Education and Industrial Evolution. New York, 
1908. A clear, comprehensive treatment of the problem of in- 
dustrial education : continuation schools, trade schools, negro 
education, apprenticeship system in the United States, organized 
labor and industrial education, relation of, to manual training. 

Carmen, G. N. "Cooperation of school and shop in promoting in- 
dustrial efficiency," S. Rev., 18 : 108. Illustrated by practical 
experience of Lewis Institute. 

Carr, J. F. "A school with a clear aim," W. W., 19 : 12363. Work 
of the Interlaken School, La Porte, Indiana. Shows how the 
definite and immediate application of training to work insures 
interest, earnestness, self-government, etc. 

Chamberlain, A, H. "The vocational middle school," Man. Tr. 
Mag., 12 : 105. A school to parallel the high school, advantages, 
course of study, etc. 

Chicago Association of Commerce. Industrial Education in Relation 
to Conditions in the City of Chicago. Published by the Associa- 
tion. Chicago, 1909. 

Clarke, I. E. "Art and industrial education," Monographs on Edu- 
cation, No. 14. Edited by N. M. Butler. 

Dabney, C. W. "Agricultural Education," Monographs on Educa- 
tion, No. 12. 

Davenport, Eugene. Education for Efficiency. An excellent treat- 
ment of the modern phases of industrial education in its relation 
to high schools, etc. 

Davis, B. M. "Present status of manual training in its relation to 
industrial education in the rural schools," Man. Tr. Mag., 11: 
456. 



174 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Dean, Arthur D. The Worker and the State. A comprehensive 
and popular account of the whole current movement. 

DoDD, Alvin G. "Grammar grade vocational training," Man. Tr. 

Mag., 11:97. 
Button and Snedden. "Administration of Vocational Education," 

The Administration of Public Education in the United States, 

Chapter XXII. 

Dyer, F. B. "Industrial education in Cincinnati," S. Rev., 19: 289. 

Eaton, J. Shirley. " Education for efficiency in the railroad serv- 
ice," Bui. U. S. Bur. Ed., 1909, No. 10. 

Eliot, C. N. The Conflict of Individualism and Collectivism in a De- 
mocracy. 

Gillette, J. M. Vocational Education. 1910. All school educa- 
tion should be organized about a vocational motive. 

Hailmann, W. N. "German views of American Education with 
particular reference to industrial development," Bui. U. S. Bur. 
Ed., 1906, No. 2. 

Hanus, Paul. The Beginnings of Industrial Education. Boston, 
1909. 

Harcourt, Charles. "Reform for the truant boy in industrial 
training," Craftsman, 15:436. Describes actual efforts in 
Brooklyn and other places. 

Hawkins, Mason A. "Vocational Education," Ed., 31 : 141. 1910. 

Hine, Lewis. "Industrial training for deaf mutes," Craftsman, 13: 
400. "A practical school where an opportunity is furnished 
for them to become self-supporting citizens." 

Hunter, W. B. "The Fitchburg plan of industrial education," S. 
Rev., 1910, p. 166. The manufacturers of Fitchburg made it 
possible for boys to learn shop work in school; go alternate 
weeks; receive pay. 

James, J. E. "Commercial Education in the United States," No. 13, 
of Monographs on Education, edited by N. M. Butler. 

Jewell, J. R. "Agricultural Education," Bui. of U. S. Bur. of Ed., 

1907, No. 2. 
Johnston, C. H. "The social significance of various movements for 

industrial education," Ed. Rev. February, 1909. 

EIerschensteiner, Georg. (i) Education for Citizenship. An argu- 
ment for a general pubUc system of compulsory vocational edu- 
cation. His famous prize essay. 



INDUSTRIAL AND VOCATIONAL EDUCATION 175 

(2) " Fundamental principles of continuation schools," S. Rev., 

19 : 162. Reprinted in this section. 

(3) " The organization of continuation schools in Munich," S. 

Rev., 19 : 225. 
(4) "The technical trade schools in Germany," S. Rev., 19 : 295. 

MacDonald, M. I. "Our need for industrial education; what it 
would mean to have vocational schools added to the pubUc 
school systems," Craftsman, 15 : 466. Compares our condition 
with Bavaria and other European countries. 

Marshall, F. M. "Industrial training for women," Nat. Soc. for 

Prom, of Ind. Ed., Bulletin No. 4, 1907, 
Massachusetts Commission on Industrial and Technical Education. 

Reports. Boston, 1906-1909. 
Orr, Willl^m. "Vocational training in large cities," S. Rev., 17 : 417. 

Osgood, C. L. "Raising the standard of efficiency in work," Crafts- 
man, 12 : 634. Practical training given by the Manhattan Trade 
School of Girls. 

Perkins, Agnes F. Vocations for the Trained Woman, Woman's 
Educational and Industrial Union, Boston, 19 10. 

Person, H. S. "The ideal organization of a system of secondary 
schools to provide vocational training," ,5. Rev., 17:404. 

Industrial Education. A system of training for men entering 

upon trade and commerce, Boston, 1907. 

Reeder, R. How Two Hundred Children Live and Learn, Chapter 

III. 
Richards, C. R. " Trade schools : their place in industry, education 

and philanthropy," N. C. C. C, 1895, pp. 195-203. 
"The place of industries in public education," Man. Tr. Mag., 

12 : 47. "Problem is to place school in intimate cooperation with 

the industrial situation." 
Rogers, H. J. "Education with reference to our future industrial 

and commercial development," Lewis and Clark Educational 

Congress, p. 102. 
Row, R. K. The Educational Meaning of Manual Arts and Industries. 

Values of different types of manual training ; to what classes of 

children most important ; best methods for realizing these values. 
Sadler, M. Continuation Schools in England and Elsewhere. The 

most comprehensive account of the status of industrial education 

in civilized coimtries. 



176 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Snedden, David. The Problem of Vocational Education, Riverside 
Educational Monograph, 1910. Definition of, social need for, 
and support of vocational work ; types ; problems of relation 
and administration. Concise and suggestive. 

Snowden, a. a. "The industrial improvement schools of Wurtem- 
berg," The Teachers College Record. November, 1907. 

Stickley, Gustav. "The public school and the home, the part each 
should bear in the education of our children," Craftsman, 16 : 284. 
All industrial training should not be crowded upon the school. 

"A visit to Craftsman Farms," Craftsman, 18:638. A school 

farm — pupils taught to do something useful with hands and 

brains. 
"Teaching boys and girls to work." What is needed is not more 

schools, but common sense. Craftsman, 18 : 428. Advocates more 

industrial training at home. 
Terman, L. H. Relation of the manual arts to health. Pop. Sc. M., 

June, 191 1. 

Thorndike, E. L. "The elimination of pupils from school," Bui. 
of U. S. Bur. Ed., No. 4, 1907. The facts of ehmination bear 
directly upon the need of industrial education. 

Vanderlip, F. a. "American industrial training as compared with 
European industrial training," Social Education Quarterly, i : 105, 
1907. 

Washington, B. T. Working with the Hands. Moral values of hand- 
work ; outdoor work for women ; pleasure and profit of work in 
soil. 

Wood-Simons. "Industrial education in Chicago," Ped. S., 17 : 398. 
An excellent statement of the social need for, and the attempts 
to respond to it. 

WooLMAN, Mary S. The Making of a Trade School. 1910. An 
account of the Manhattan Trade School for Girls. 

Wright, Carroll D. Industrial Evolution of the United States. New 
York, 1897. 

"The apprenticeship system in its relation to industrial educa- 
tion," Bui. U. S. Bur. Ed., No. 6, 1908. 

See Dean, A. D., Worker and State, for an extended classified bibliog- 
raphy. 



CHAPTER X 

VOCATIONAL DIRECTION, ONE OF THE LARGER SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF 

EDUCATION 

Vocational Direction a Social Necessity 

A BOY just graduated from high school came to his principal and 
said : " I have finished the work of the school. What am I to do now ? " 
The principal said with a grandiloquent flourish: " We have led you 
out upon the broad sea of opportunity, and you can now steer your 
ship in any direction you choose. You are prepared to do anything." 
The youth repHed with a touch of bitterness, " It seems to me you have 
led me out into a bank of fog." We are tardily beginning to see that 
the youth was right. The paper by Mr. Weaver, here reprinted, de- 
scribes concretely and forcefully what is being done by the schools in 
metropohtan centers to help boys and girls make satisfactory voca- 
tional adjustments. It is especially interesting because it shows first 
what the teaching force itself on its own initiative can accomplish. 
It is worth studying, also, because it brings to light some of the difficul- 
ties of vocational adjustment that inhere in the training and habits of 
work of the young people themselves. 

In Boston, the work originated outside of the schools, but is being 
developed in close cooperation with the teachers and the school system 
as a whole. A surprisingly large amount and wide range of helpful 
material has already been printed, dealing with the problems of 
vocational adjustment. Bloomfield's admirable monograph, The Vo- 
cational Guidance of Youth, should be read by every student of the 
larger meaning of education. It describes the social need, and the 
attempts to meet the need not only in Boston, but also in other large 
cities in this country and Europe. The idea is rapidly spreading, 
and to-day many American cities are considering the establishment 
of Vocation Bureaus. The book by Parsons, Choosing a Vocation, 

N 177 



178 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

describes the practical work and methods and results attained by the 
trained vocational counselor. 

As Bloomfield says : " We are indeed living in the midst of a 
restless period, impatient with crudeness, and too preoccupied to 
pause over the stumblings and gropings of its bewildered youth. 
Into the arena of tense effort, the schools of our country send out 
their annual thousands. We somehow trust that the tide of oppor- 
tunity may carry them to some vocational destination. . . . What 
becomes of that young multitude sent out to cope with the new 
conditions of self-support? Whose business is it to follow up the re- 
sults of this transition from school to work ? Whose business to audit 
our social accounts, and discover how far our costly enterprises 
in education, the pain, the thought, the skill and the sacrifice 
we put forth with the growing generation, are well or ill invested 
in the field of occupation ? There are vital questions, and perhaps the 
most vital is how far the work our children turn to is the result of 
choice, accident or necessity." All types of schools and all classes of 
people are, as he further says, concerned in this question. Too much 
of the strength of youth is wasted when " a helpful suggestion at the 
critical moment " might have directed aright and made possible happy, 
successful lives where now there is maladjustment and dreary waste. 

The possibility of wisely directing young men and women in the 
choice of vocation is only beginning to be realized, but already the idea 
has passed from the stage of theory into that of successful practice. 
The impulse for vocational guidance in some places arose outside the 
school, in others within ; but, whatever its origin, and however it is being 
carried on, it is one of the significant phases of the modern broader 
conception of the scope and function of public education. It is an 
essential element in the movement to bring the school closer to society, 
to make it a more effective social instrument. No matter what sort 
of training the school may give, whether " liberal " or more narrowly 
practical, there is need of counsel and guidance that the youth may 
find his proper place in the adult world. Nor is the need to be met 
at the last moment when he is about to go forth. It is a part of the 
business of the agents of education to study him more or less continu- 
ously throughout his course with reference to his adaptability to a par- 
ticular line of work. Whether the boy is to be always conscious that 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 179 

he actually is daily laying the foundation for some sort of a vocation, 
the school must not lose sight of that fact, and the boy, as he grows 
older, must be made more and more to feel that the wise intelligent 
choice of a vocation is the culmination of his school training, a cul- 
mination to be attained only by intelligent cooperation with sympa- 
thetic advisers who have a broader view of the situation than he can 
possibly possess. In many respects the need of vocational guidance 
is distinctly a modern one, and one that is peculiarly associated with 
democratic institutions. The complexity and specialization of all 
types of work in modern society render it increasingly difficult for the 
youth to know how or where to take hold that he may finally be able 
to do a man's part. This was not the case even a few decades ago. 
Under simpler conditions, it was comparatively easy for a boy to find 
something fitted to his taste and ability. Furthermore, this is a prob- 
lem of democracy, because under such a form of government there is 
less fixity in occupations in a family or small group. Boys tend less 
and less to follow their fathers' occupations. Things are shifting and 
fluent. In a society where a boy's career was determined for him by 
that of his father, he had at least something definite to which he might 
look forward. He might not be well suited for it, but he, at least, did 
not waste time in trying, perhaps futilely, to find himself somewhere 
else. Such a system has, of course, obvious disadvantages. For one 
thing, it is so inflexible. It takes no account of individual adaptabil- 
ities. But even this could scarcely be worse than that the boy should 
cut loose from the parental occupation and try unaided to find a place 
for himself in the labyrinth of modern society. The possibilities of 
misfits and failures are as great, if not far greater, than where the boy 
followed in the steps of his father. The question to-day, however, is 
not as to the desirability of going back to the old condition of fixity. 
The whole idea is repugnant to the sense of individual freedom and 
personal initiative, which, whether right or wrong, has been fostered 
in modern society, and if society fosters such attitudes, it must ap- 
parently face the problem of how to turn them to profitable account. 
It is possible that the failure thus far to make any adequate provision 
for the vocational guidance of youth is one of the subtle effects of the 
old and vicious doctrine of laissez faire and unlimited individual free- 
dom, — the theory that people must be let alone in all their compli- 



i8o SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

cated interrelations, — that in this way the best possible social and in- 
dustrial adjustments will work out automatically. Whatever might 
have been true of a simpler social order, we know that in the world of 
to-day this let-alone policy can breed only the gravest abuses. The 
self-interest of the employer will not lead him to properly safeguard 
the employee nor to give him a living wage. The self-interest of the 
merchant will not insure to the buyer of his goods full measure nor 
standard quahty. The theory and the practice of non-interference 
in the choice of a vocation is apparently a part of this outworn theory 
of non-interference in general social matters. To give definite and 
systematic counsel to the boy or to the girl would infringe on natural 
freedom. In some mysterious way the native bent and capacity of 
the youth would be an unerring guide. The very word " calling " 
is itself an expression of the idea that each one is predestined in some 
way to a particular life work. Such an idea is not altogether without 
its value or suggestiveness. The difficulty, however, of the youth's 
finding the thing he is best fitted for is becoming increasingly apparent. 
The ease with which boys are at the close of compulsory school drawn 
into the well-named blind alley occupations is of itself sufficient evi- 
dence of how vital is the need of vocational guidance. It is a need 
common to all civilized peoples. The recent report of the English 
Royal Commission on the Poor Laws and Relief of Distress throws 
into clear light conditions more and more prevalent in both Europe 
and America. We cannot do better than quote Bloomfield's comment 
upon this report. It is true, as he says, that " such employments as 
that of errand boy are not necessarily demoraHzing. Many a boy 
has started in this humble way on a career of success. But callings 
like this are apt to waste the years during which a boy should make 
a beginning at a skilled or developing occupation. The probabihties 
are that younger, but trained, competitors eventually oust the un- 
trained workers, and at a time when these untrained workers are 
charged with adult responsibilities. 

"The necessity of guidance intended to avert the entrance of thou- 
sands of boys and girls into a vocational cul-de-sac is appreciated by 
this Committee. Its conviction is clearly expressed that the most 
dangerous point in the lives of children in an elementary school is the 
moment at which they leave it. The investigations have shown how 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION i8i 

difficult is the taking of the right step at this stage, and the lament- 
able consequences of taking the wrong one. This difficulty is due in 
large measure to the inability of parents to get the necessary informa- 
tion as to the conditions of employment, the wages and the future 
prospects of various occupations, as well as a knowledge of the edu- 
cational opportunities and requirements for efficiency in the occu- 
pations. The Committee has found that there are parents who are 
under no compulsion to send their children to work, and that they 
would be both willing and able to accept lower wages at first for the 
sake of subsequent advantages in the vocations; but their ignorance 
of these matters makes it impossible for them to select wisely for their 
children. 

" ' Unless children are thus cared for at this turning point in their 
lives,' says the Consultative Committee, ' the store of knowledge and 
discipline acquired at school will be quickly dissipated, and they 
will soon become unfit either for employment or for further edu- 
cation.' 

'\The intervening years, then, between leaving school, which the 
great majority do at fourteen years of age, and the entrance into an 
occupation that promises any development at all are largely wasted. 
Society gains little by the labor of thousands of its children at the most 
important period of their growth. It is not that much of this work is 
not of social value, but with our present neglect we offer no corrective 
for the injury that follows. The reports of the two commissions on 
Industrial Education in Massachusetts; investigations into street 
trades in Boston, Chicago and elsewhere; and all the observations 
of the child-saving societies in this country confirm the Royal Com- 
mission's alarm over juvenile labor as now performed. 

" The employer is very often as much a victim of these conditions as 
the boy himself. The allurement of high wages for uninstructive work 
is soon understood by many a boy, and his restlessness in these occu- 
pations, where often, without any provocation, he throws up his place, 
is a constant source of vexation and destroys any plan which the em- 
ployer might have in view for the promotion of his boys. This skip- 
ping from job to job can only mean for most boys demoralization. 
They become vocational hobos. They are given work only because 
nobody else is in sight, and they stay at work as little as they may. 
Juvenile wages are their portion, no matter what services they render, 
nor for how long a period. A tragic situation is here disclosed. Not 
only do we find that modern working conditions ' put a man on the 
shelf ' in the prime of his years, because the speed and skill of younger 
brains and hands are required, but we find, too, a shelving of youth 
itself before life has given the young workers even an opening. They 
seem doomed to be juvenile adults bound by an iron law of juvenile 



1 82 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

wages. The ' dead end,' or ' blind alley,' occupations, therefore, 
with their bait of high initial wages and their destructiveness to any- 
serious life-work motive are breeding costly social evils. Unanimous 
testimony on this point by the special investigators of the Royal Com- 
mission has led to the opinion that this perhaps is the most serious of 
all the problems encountered in its study of unemployment. A term 
of sinister import has been coined to describe the products of this 
vocational anarchy — the Unemployables. 

" The unemployables are people whom no ordinary employer would 
wilhngly employ, not necessarily because of their physical or mental 
capacity, but because their economic backbone has been broken. The 
wasted years have landed their innocent victims on economic quick- 
sands. Attractive wages with no training, the illegitimate use of 
youthful energy, long hours of monotonous and uneducative work, 
have produced at his majority a young man often precocious in evil 
and stunted in his vocational possibihties." 

Two natural consequences of the doctrine of " hands off " are to be 
noted. In the first place, while a few men and women of pronounced 
talent and initiative do find their proper work, or, if it does not 
already exist, they carve it out for themselves, the vast bulk drift 
into this or that work purely by chance. They have no clear idea of 
their own capacities nor of the different types of opportunities open 
to them in the world. Often it is admiration of the work of a con- 
spicuously successful man or woman which determines the choice. 
More often it is the opportunity for work that lies closest at hand and 
which seems most desirable merely because the youth has no clear 
idea of anything else. The majority of men and women admit that^the 
choice of their life work was more or less fortuitous. There was no care- 
ful study of social needs, no careful attempt to determine the relation 
of one's individual resources to these needs. The individual as well as 
the social waste involved in such a procedure is of course incalcu- 
lable. 

In the second place, from this doctrine of " hands off," it has been 
almost inevitable that the youth postpones his choice of a vocation 
unduly. How common it is for a young man of twenty or even older 
to say that he does not know yet what he will do ! Naturally it is be- 
coming harder and harder for a youth to find himself, — and so there 
are wasted years of indecision, of haphazard application of energy 
whether he be out of school or in. His elders may even encourage him 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 183 

in his indecision, assuring him that there is no hurry, and that he 
will find out in good time what he is best able to do. There are seri- 
ous objections to this point of view. In the first place, it deprives the 
boy, especially while in school, of any sufiicient motive for his study. 
Lack of adequate motivation is the crying defect of the traditional 
type of adolescent education which still largely prevails. In fact, the 
courses of study are planned for "general training" as if to keep from 
the boy as long as possible the thought that he will ever have to do any 
specific work. 

There is beginning, however, to be a significant change along this 
line in the attitude of thoughtful people. It is seen to be quite con- 
sistent with a broad and liberal training that there should be an ear- 
lier appreciation of a life purpose. In fact, such a purpose vitalizes 
the school work of the adolescent. It awakens his energies and gives 
him enthusiasm, where before he worked with indifference and even 
apathy. 

The Ufe motive not only may appear in early adolescence; the con- 
ditions should even be such as to encourage its early appearance. To 
be sure, there is danger of putting this problem prematurely to boys 
and girls, but the possibility of going to an extreme in this direction 
is not a good excuse for ignoring it altogether. The wise course is, 
step by step, according to the age of the child, to call his attention to 
the importance of his life work, and by wise counsel set him to thinking 
along such fines. As he grows older, the problem will become more 
and more definite. When he finally faces the crisis of an actual choice, 
he will be able to make it inteUigently instead of blindly. 

That there can be an early and yet sensible cultivation of life mo- 
tives culminating in intelligent choice of a vocation is being proved 
abundantly by the practical work that has already been done in many 
places. Its ultimate success depends upon the development in the 
first place of what Bloomfield calls " a new profession, that of the 
vocational counselor." 

In the second place, it demands a careful and often continued study 
of the individual, not merely that he may come to a consciousness of 
his own powers, or that he may be on the guard against habits of body 
and mind that will tend to hinder him in, if not actually to disqualify 
him for, the vocation he may choose to follow, but also that the vo- 



i84 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

cation counselor may have accurate knowledge of the person whom he 
advises. 

In the third place, the success of vocational guidance demands an 
intimate and continued study of the various occupations with refer- 
ence to the need of new workers, the mental and physical quaHties 
requisite for success, etc. 

Whether carried on directly under the supervision of the school or 
by outside agencies in cooperation with the school, it is essentially an 
educational enterprise of the highest social significance. " Early 
in the spring of 1909, the School Committee of Boston passed a reso- 
lution inviting the Vocation Bureau to submit a plan for vocational 
guidance to assist the public school graduates. The Bureau pre- 
sented the following suggestions : — 

" First, the Bureau will employ a vocational director to give practi- 
cally his entire time to the organization of vocational counsel to 
the graduates of the Boston Public Schools during the ensuing 
year. 

" Second, the work of this vocational director shall be carried on in 
cooperation with the Boston School Committee or the Superintendent 
of Schools as the Committee shall see fit. 

" Third, it is the plan of the Bureau to have this vocational direc- 
tor organize a conference of masters and teachers of the Boston high 
schools through the Committee or the Superintendent, so that members 
of the graduating classes will be met for vocational advice either by 
this vocational director or by the cooperating schoolmasters and 
teachers, all working along a general plan, to be adopted by this 
conference. 

" Fourth, the vocational director should, in cooperation with the 
Superintendent of Schools or any person whom he may appoint, ar- 
range vocational lectures for the members of the graduating 
classes. 

" Fifth, the Bureau believes that schoolmasters and teachers should 
be definitely trained to give vocational counsel, and therefore, that 
it is advisable for this vocational director, in cooperation with the 
Superintendent of Schools, to establish a series of conferences to 
which certain selected teachers and masters should be invited on 
condition that they will agree in turn definitely to do vocational 
counseling with their own pupils. 

" Sixth, the vocational director will keep a careful record of the 
work accomplished for the pupils during the year, the number of 
pupils counseled with, the attitude of the pupils with reference 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 185 

to a choice of vocations, the advice given, and, as far as pos- 
sible, the results following. These records should form the basis 
for a report to the Boston School Committee at the end of the year. 
The Bureau cherishes the hope that it can so demonstrate the practi- 
cability and value of this work that the Boston School Committee 
will eventually establish in its regular organization a supervisor 
of vocational advice. " ^ 

Acting under the direction of the Boston School Committee, the 
Superintendent of Schools appointed a committee of six to work with 
the Vocation Bureau director in that city. After nearly a year's 
work, this committee rendered the following report, which is quoted 
because it indicates some of the practical aspects of the work as well 
as its dominant ideals. 

" The Committee on Vocational Direction respectfully presents 
the following as a report for the school year just closed. The past 
year has been a year of beginnings, the field of operation being large 
and the problems complicated. A brief survey of the work shows the 
following results : — 

" A general interest in vocational direction has been aroused among 
the teachers of Boston, not only in the elementary but in the high 
schools. 

" A vocational counselor, or a committee of such counselors, has 
been appointed in every high school and in all but one of the elemen- 
tary schools. 

" A vocational card record of every elementary school graduate 
for this year has been made, to be forwarded to the high school in the 
fall. 

" Stimulating vocational lectures have been given to thirty of the 
graduating classes of the elementary schools of Boston, including all 
the schools in the more congested parts of the city. 

" Much has been done by way of experiment by the members of 
this committee in the various departments of getting employment, 
counseling and following up pupils after leaving school. 

" The interest and loyal cooperation of many of the leading philan- 
thropic societies of Boston have been secured, as well as of many 
prominent in the business and professional life of the city and the 
state. 

" A good beginning has already been made in reviewing books suit- 
able for vocational libraries in the schools. 

^ Bloomfield, Vocationoi Guidance of Youth, pp. 32-34. 



1 86 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

" It was early decided that we should confine our efforts for the 
first year mainly to pupils of the highest elementary grade as the best 
point of contact. The problem of vocational aid and counsel in the 
high schools has not as yet been directly dealt with, yet much that is 
valuable has been accomplished in all our high schools on the initiative 
of the head masters and selected teachers. It is safe to say that the 
quality and amount of vocational aid and direction has far exceeded 
any hitherto given in those schools. The committee, through open 
and private conferences, and correspondence with the head masters, 
have kept in close touch with the situation in high schools, but they 
feel that for the present year it is best for the various types of high 
schools each to work out its own plan of vocational direction. 
The facts regarding their experience can properly be made the 
basis of a later report. A committee of three, appointed by the 
Head Master's Association, stands ready to advise with this com- 
mittee on all matters relating to high school vocational interests. 
Once during the year the principals of the specialized schools 
met in conference the vocational counselors of the city and have 
presented the aims and curricula of these schools in such a way as to 
greatly enlighten those responsible for advising pupils entering high 
schools. 

" The committee have held regular weekly meetings through the 
school year since September. At these meetings every phase of vo- 
cational aid has been discussed, together with its adaptability to our 
present educational system. Our aim has been to test the various 
conclusions before recommending them for adoption. This has taken 
time. Our most serious problem so far has been to adapt our plans 
to conditions as we find them, without increasing the teachers' work 
and without greatly increased expense. We have assumed that the 
movement was not a temporary ' fad,' but that it had a perma- 
nent value, and was therefore worthy the serious attention of 
educators. 

" Three aims have stood out above all others: first, to secure 
thoughtful consideration, on the part of parents, pupils and teachers, 
of the importance of a life-career motive ; second, to assist in every 
way possible in placing pupils in some remunerative work on leaving 
school ; and third, to keep in touch with and help them thereafter, sug- 
gesting means of improvement and watching the advancement of 
those who need such aid. The first aim has been in some measure 
achieved throughout the city. The other two have thus far been 
worked out only by the individual members of the committee. As a 
result we are very firmly of the opinion that until some central bureau 
of information for pupils regarding trades and mercantile opportuni- 
ties is established, and some effective system of sympathetically fol- 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION i$7 

lowing up pupils, for a longer or a shorter period after leaving school, 
is organized in our schools as centers, the effort to advise and direct 
merely will largely fail. Both will require added executive labor 
which will fall upon the teachers at first. We believe they will accept 
the responsibility. If, as Dr. Ehot says, teachers find those schools 
more interesting where the life-career motive is present, then the sooner 
that motive is discovered in the majority of pupils the more easily 
will the daily work be done and the product correspondingly im- 
proved. 

" In order to enlist the interest and cooperation of the teachers of 
Boston, three mass meetings, one in October and two in the early 
spring, were held. A fourth meeting with the head masters of high 
schools was also held with the same object. As a most gratifying 
result the general attitude is most sympathetic and the enthusiasm 
marked. The vocation counselors in high and elementary schools 
form a working organization of over a hundred teachers, represent- 
ing all the schools. A responsible ofl&cial, or committee, in each school 
stands ready to advise pupils and parents at times when they most 
need advice and are asking for it. They suggest whatever helps may 
be available in further educational preparation. They are ready to 
fit themselves professionally to do this work more intelligently and 
discriminatingly, not only by meeting together for mutual counsel 
and exchange of experience, but by study and expert preparation if 
need be. 

" As a beginning of our work with pupils we have followed out two 
lines: the lecture and the card record. The addresses have been 
mainly stimulating and inspirational. It seems to the committee, 
however, that specific information coming from those intimately con- 
nected with certain lines of labor should have a place also in this 
lecture phase of our work. In a large number of high and elementary 
schools addresses of this character have been given by experts during 
the year. The committee claim no credit for these, though carried 
out under the inspiration of the movement the committee represent. 
The custom of having such addresses given before Junior Alumni 
Associations, Parents' Associations and evening school gatherings 
has become widespread, the various masters taking the initiative in 
such cases. The speakers are able to quote facts with an authority 
that is convincing to the pupil and leads him to take a more serious view 
of his future plans, especially if the address is followed by similar talks 
from the class teacher, emphasizing the points of the speaker. This 
is a valuable feature and should be extended to include more of 
the elementary grades, especially in the more densely settled 
portions of the city, from which most of our unskilled workers 
come. 



1 88 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

" A vocational record card, calling for elementary school data on 
one side and for high school data on the other, has been furnished all 
the elementary schools for registration of this year's graduates. The 
same card will be furnished to high schools this fall. These cards 
are to be sent forward by the elementary school counselors to high 
schools in September, to be revised twice during the high school course. 
The value of the card record is not so much in the registering of cer- 
tain data as in the results of the process of getting these. The effect 
upon the mental attitude of pupil, teacher and parent is excellent, 
and makes an admirable beginning in the plan of vocational direction. 

" The committee are now in a position where they must meet a 
demand of both pupils and teachers for vocational enlightenment. 
Pupils should have detailed information in the form of inexpensive 
handbooks, regarding the various callings and how to get into them, 
wages, permanence of employment, chance of promotion, etc. Teach- 
ers must have a broader outlook upon industrial opportunities for 
boys and girls. Even those teachers who know their pupils well 
generally have little acquaintance with industrial conditions. The 
majority can advise fairly well how to prepare for a profession, while 
few can tell a boy how to get into a trade, or what the opportunities 
therein are. In this respect our teachers will need to be more broadly 
informed regarding social, industrial and economic problems. We 
have to face a more serious problem in a crowded American city than 
in a country where children are supposed to follow the father's trade. 

" In meeting the two most pressing needs, viz. the vocational 
enlightenment of teachers, parents and pupils, and the training of 
vocational counselors, we shall continue to look for aid to the Voca- 
tional Bureau. The Bureau has been of much assistance during the 
past year, in fact indispensable, in matters of correspondence, securing 
information, getting out printed matter and in giving the committee 
counsel based upon a superior knowledge of men and conditions in the 
business world. 

" The question of vocational direction is merely one phase of the 
greater question of vocational education. As a contributory influ- 
ence we believe serious aggressive work in this line will lead to several 
definite results, aside from the direct benefit to the pupils. It will 
create a demand for better literature on the subject of vocations. It 
will help increase the demand for more and better trade schools. It 
will cause teachers to seek to broaden their knowledge of opportunities 
for mechanical and mercantile training. Lastly, it will tend to a more 
intelligent and generous treatment of employees by business houses, the 
personal welfare and prospects of the employee being taken into ac- 
count as well as the interests of the house itself." ^ 

^ Reprinted in Bloomfield, op. cit. pp. 35-41. 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 189 

Report of the Students' Aid Committee of the New York City 
High School Teachers' Association on Vocational Guidance 

There are now in all the day and evening high schools of New York 
City special committees whose aim it is to aid deserving students to 
secure employment during vacations and for out-of-school hours in 
order to earn a part of their support ; to advise those who are ready 
to leave school, and others who are compelled to leave school, in the 
choice of a vocation; to direct them how best to fit themselves for 
their chosen vocation and to assist them in securing employment which 
will lead to success in those vocations. All these local committees 
have representatives in the general committee of the association. . . . 

The general committee has been aiming to assist the local com- 
mittees of the several schools: (i) by bringing to the attention of 
employers the fact that the schools are willing and ready to help them 
to select suitable recruits for their service ; (2) by collecting information 
in regard to the opportunities which are open to the high school stu- 
dents who must seek employment; (3) by setting on foot movements 
for securing vacation employment. 

Vacation employment has been found helpful to those who must 
earn something towards their own support in order to continue in 
school : (i) in supplying a little money to the boy whose growing spirit 
of independence tempts him to break with the school in order to satisfy 
that spirit through the possession of some money of his own ; (2) in 
giving to the boy who becomes restless under the conditions of school 
work a taste of the prosy work-a-day world so that he may be better 
satisfied afterwards with the restrictions which the school must 
impose. . . . 

Regarding the relative efficiency of the high school product it may 
be noted that of the ten thousand students who went out of the high 
schools into the commercial and industrial worlds less than 10 per 
cent apphed to the committee for assistance and advice in the matter 
of securing employment. It may be assumed that among this tenth 
were those who were the most helpless. At four different times during 
the year the registers of applicants for employment were practically 
exhausted. This means that all the students who went out of these 
schools seeking employment had no difficulty in finding employment, 
and yet the reports of a hundred and ninety-three representative 
labor unions for December, 1908, indicate that out of sixty thousand 
members 28 per cent were out of employment. A canvass of all of 
the eleven hundred students attending one of the large evening high 
schools during the last week of December indicated that only thirty- 
two, or less than 3 per cent, were unemployed. Within a week the 



I90 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

local committee representing the school was enabled to place three 
fourths of that number. The students attending the evening high 
schools are, for the most part, those who are compelled to drop out of 
the day school. Another significant fact bearing on this question 
is the report of an investigation made about the same time by the 
Society for Improving the Condition of the Poor of one thousand 
consecutive applicants to the employment department of that society 
for assistance. It was found that 40 per cent of them were skilled 
laborers, and that the idleness of only 3 per cent of the entire number 
was due to inefiiciency. These were also products of our public schools. 
Their condition seems to have been due not so much to the inefficiency 
of the schools from which they came as to the faulty industrial organ- 
izations which could not utilize their efi&ciency. 

That employers are ready to use the product of the schools proves 
that this product is economically efficient, that the students who go 
out of the schools in their immaturity readily find employment during 
a season when labor is far in excess of the demand, proves that the high 
school student is relatively more efficient than any other class in the 
labor market. If the high school product does not continue to develop 
after it enters the market, it may prove that employers do not so 
organize their forces as to enable the employee to continue his develop- 
ment after he enters their service. 

It is time that the schools, which have been subjected to the criti- 
cisms of the employers, should know what after care the students 
receive who go out from their walls. What would it profit the future 
of the state if she were to set aside her forest preserves, secure plants 
of good stock, prepare the ground and set out the seedlings, and then 
leave the young plants without thought or care to the mercenary who 
would exploit them for his own advantage ? The state does not per- 
mit the intelligent and wealthy orphan of eighteen to intrust her 
fortune to the keeping of her relative without the consent and over- 
sight of the courts, and yet she permits the well-trained but poor boy, 
who has no asset in the world but his time and his ambition, to sell 
the same in the market, without oversight or advice, to the employers 
/ of a city, among whom are those whose inhumanity has compelled 
the legislature to place upon our statute books the pitifully inadequate 
child labor laws. The government does not permit a grocer to sell 
to a millionaire a bottle of milk without its supervision, and yet it 
stands idly by while a young man or a boy gives the precious years of 
his youth for less than his board and clothes to an employer in ex- 
change for prospects of advancement which the employer knows 
have no existence except in his own " help wanted " advertisement. 

If the government which has found it necessary to compel reform 
in the advertisements of food products and proprietary medicine will 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 191 

compel every advertiser for help to give his proper name and address, 
and to state what he expects and what he is willing to pay, a great 
service will be done for the most helpless part of our population. 

A study made by Mr. H, G. Paine at the request of the Charity 
Organization Society into the character of the " help wanted " adver- 
tisements in two representative New York dailies for twelve Sunday 
issues showed that out of a total of 18,214 advertisements, 6130 were 
fakes. This is a most wasteful process, to say the least. Its bearing 
on the education of youth may be illustrated by a typical case of a 
genuine advertisement. On a rainy morning in July, one of the 
members of the committee went with a timid small boy to a stock 
broker's office in answer to an attractive advertisement for a bright, 
well-educated office boy. They found the outer office crowded with 
small boys. The manager supposed that the only man in the crowd 
was a prospective customer, called him into the office, and engaged his 
boy, joked about the mob outside, and directed his clerk to scatter it. 
The so-called mob of small boys consisted of a score of boys who had 
been graduated from the public schools the week before, got up early, 
scanned the papers, dressed themselves up^ started out into the strange 
parts of the city, morning after morning, spending their scant allow- 
ance of pocket money in car fares to meet with most inconsiderate 
receptions and to write letters which were rarely answered. After 
each unsuccessful application they placed lower and lower estimates 
upon their own value. It was found afterwards that in this particular 
case the opening for the boy was to be only for the time during which 
the regular boy was absent on his vacation. 

The day after this episode, the newspaper, to show what a valuable 
advertising medium it conducted, had a most humorous but a very 
unfeeling account of how it had rained office boys in Wall Street on 
the previous day. This account was accompanied by a cartoon, 
and the chairman of the committee was grateful that the cartoonist 
was ignorant of his presence in the deluge. 

The present methods of conducting these columns permit managers 
of cheap commercial schools and irresponsible employment agencies 
to insert attractive advertisements for the purpose of securing choice 
lists of addresses to which to mail their literature. It is hard to under- 
stand why a reputable newspaper is a party to such petty frauds upon 
the poor and helpless. 

Let us look at a few young people through the eyes of the employers 
in order that, we may note what the causes are which give rise to the 
complaints from the employers. 

I will quote two cases which may emphasize what you already 
know. The first boy has nothing in his favor except the training and 
the ambition which he has received in the public schools of the city. 



192 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION * 

He was graduated in February, wanted to go to college, but had to go 
to work in order to earn the money wherewith to pay his college 
expenses. The Monday after he had been graduated he went to work 
as an extra clerk in a large financial institution following another 
high school boy, who by doing the work in this position during his 
out-of-college hours for four years had paid his college expenses. This 
boy will never know but one employer until he is ready to enter upon 
the practice of his profession. His employer may never know this 
boy because the boy is not one of the blundering kind, and in the great 
concerns of this city, as in some high schools, the responsible heads 
become well acquainted only with their inefiScient subordinates. 

The contrasting case is that of a boy who graduated in the same 
class by virtue of complying with the minimum requirements of the 
school. The employment agent of his school declined to help him 
until he had shown that he had made an effort of his own in the direc- 
tion of securing employment. After several weeks he came back with 
proofs that he had applied by letter or in person to over a hundred 
employers. He was directed to call upon his adviser at nine o'clock 
the following Saturday morning to go to interview an employer. He 
called at eleven instead, because his father " needed him to go on an 
errand first." As an advertisement of the ineflSciency of the schools 
he is going about among employers raising himself to the one hun- 
dredth degree while your efficient product stands as a single unit. It 
is because the employer who advertises for help receives his replies 
largely from this floating and misfit element that the schools are so 
harshly judged. The remedy is found by teaching the employer that 
the best of the reserve corps is in the rear of the army in training, and 
not among those who are playing hide and seek around the camp 



Of course, we must always expect to find some ne'er-do-wells, some 
who cannot represent themselves to good advantage to employers, 
and others who always will be unemployable ; but it becomes us so to 
frame our courses of study and so to plan the routine of the schools as 
to help the first and to reduce the number of the second class. We 
want to know first why some are unemployable. A study of a few 
concrete cases will help to make our knowledge definite. 

Some do not readily find employment because of a lack of 
knowledge of what is required by the market. From one of our 
high schools there came to the chairman of the committee recently a 
young man who was called home in the middle of his freshman year in 
college because of a domestic catastrophe which had shattered his 
home. His mother needed his help. It was impossible to discharge 
his new obligations by accepting the meager wages which are usually 
paid to beginners. Despondent and discouraged as he was, unskilled 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 193 

and unfitted for any immediate work, he wandered around the city for 
several weeks before applying to his former teacher by whom he was 
sent to the committee. There are in this city thousands of employers 
who are looking for such young men. These employers, however, do 
not need to advertise for help. Somewhat awkward, but a splendid 
specimen of young manhood, loyal and unselfish, ambitious and deter- 
mined he was. He was not at an age when he could present himself 
to good advantage. Within a week he was placed in congenial sur- 
roundings, and the committee has since received expressions of appre- 
ciation both from the boy and from the employer. 

To help such young people to find themselves, this newly proposed 
vocation society can do a great service by making available to them 
the right kind of information at the time when they may need it. 
The committee, prompted by the need of such information, has under- 
taken the preparation of a series of vocation leaflets covering the dif- 
ferent occupations which are open to the young people who go out from 
the high schools. In these are set forth the qualifications necessary 
for success and the remuneration and rate of advancement which may 
be expected in each of the several lines. These leaflets will be printed 
as fast as the funds of the committee will permit this to be done. 

Some of our young people are unfortunate in making business con- 
nection because of too much faith in themselves. We have before us 
the case of a young man who was compelled at the last moment to 
seek work instead of taking a graduate course at college. Through the 
efforts of the committee a position was secured in a promising line for 
him. After his first week, because of some harsh criticism, he left 
his work. His case is tj^ical of an increasing class. This young 
man may have had too much of teaching and too little learning in his 
school life. He had a ready mind, had acquired a great deal of knowl- 
edge, but he had never learned to take pleasure in solving difficulties 
for himself. He is learning that lesson, but he is paying heavily for 
the tuition. 

The undue prominence which has been given to interest as an ele- 
ment in education, the disposition to expect more of the teachers and 
less and less of effort on the part of the student is perhaps responsible 
for the young people who have never acquired capacity for doing what 
they have not been taught. At best they can only expect to take and 
to retain positions as hired servants of some kind or other. 

Many teachers have a feeling that the inspector judges them chiefly 
because of their power to direct and control the attention of the chil- 
dren ; that he holds it is the teacher's business to supply the right 
outward stimuli and to ward off unfavorable distractions. Sometimes 
the boy gets the feeling that the teacher is responsible for his conduct ; 
from this condition it is easy for him to develop into the attitude which 



194 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

leads him " to do things because he wants to and the teacher can't 
touch him." The teachers, one after another, are wearied into 
passing the boy along until he has become indifferent to all the novelties 
which the best strategist of the school can invent. I remember one 
such boy. We stated his case fairly to an employer who afterwards 
agreed to give him a trial. After a few weeks in his position he was 
tempted to play a trick on a stupid associate. It was the kind of a 
trick which, in school, would have secured the boy a holiday until his 
mother or his father could have made arrangements to take a day off 
to see the principal, taken an hour or two of the valuable time of that 
official, made it necessary for the teacher and the clerk of the principal 
to make various and sundry entries in a conduct book and generally 
punished every one but the offender himself. In the business house 
it needed only twenty minutes to help the offender on with his over- 
coat, to give him his pay envelope and plant him on the sidewalk. 
The boy was unemployable and will likely remain unemployable as 
his recent history has seemed to indicate. That power of self-control 
which is so necessary to those who would get along with their fellows 
had never been developed in the boy. It might possibly have been 
developed by a well-graded course of treatment for nervous disorders, 
according to the prescriptions of the wise King Solomon. 

An employer who uses a large number of girls in a factory in which 
the girls are expected to attend to certain machines stated in a public 
conference recently that not over lo per cent of the girls who apply to 
him are employable at this work because of their inability to keep their 
eyes from wandering away from their work. It may be well to en- 
courage the activities of the small child, to give its natural inclinations 
free play, but if young people are to be trained for usefulness in highly 
organized industries, they must be trained so that they may have the 
power of self-control and the ability to restrain themselves and the 
readiness to forego their inclinations and desires. 

That he may be trained to useful service it would seem that as he 
advances from the kindergarten to the finishing school the child should 
find in his successive teachers less and less of the entertainer and more 
and more of the taskmaster. His high school teacher ought to have 
the highest standards of excellence and to regard with intolerance the 
lazy attitude of the adolescent boy. Of course, much harm may be 
done if a boy is to be punished for infirmities which are due to the 
physical condition of the adolescent. 

I have in mind a case of this kind. I met the boy on the street in a 
gang of toughs after he had been dismissed from school in which he 
had in five terms succeeded in doing the work of only two terms. He 
was a fairly good grammar school boy, he entered the high school with 
good intentions, he succeeded fairly well in the first term. In his 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 195 

second term the little boy suddenly outgrew his knickerbockers and 
became an uncouth, awkward fellow nearly six feet tall. He couldn't 
move without getting into some one's way. He was abused and 
ridiculed until he lost faith in himself and ceased making any effort 
whatsoever either in the way of work or of right conduct. Possibly 
provisions should have been made for putting him away where he 
could have done no harm until his nervous and muscular systems 
could have properly coordinated. 

We took him off the street, got him into the hands of an employer 
in a factory where he was useful in carrying about trays of bolts from 
one department to another. Regular physical occupation, good sur- 
roundings, and some oversight by his evening school teacher saved the 
boy, and the boy who did only two terms' work in five terms in the 
day school completed his preparation for the technical school in three 
short terms of the evening school. He will be graduated as a mechan- 
ical engineer this season from one of our best schools and expects to 
reenter the services of the firm by whom he was first employed. 

It should be emphasized, therefore, that it is a serious thing for the 
school, if, by setting too high a standard, it leads a boy to believe that 
he is not of the average capacity. If the high school work is well 
done, if the boy studies with care either biology or history or mathe- 
matics, so that he has in any sense a comprehensive grasp of either one 
of these subjects, it must follow that he will have a sense of his own in- 
significance which is wholly unknown to the young man who knows 
everything within the limits of one city block and knows nothing else. 
From its very nature, earnest and sound work in school and college 
tends to promote humility, while the man who masters only a limited 
field of endeavor, as does the man in the shop or the ofl&ce, acquires in 
his own element a very great deal of confidence. This explains per- 
haps in a measure, why the young high school and the college graduate 
appear to such disadvantage when they first go out to work side by 
side with those of their same age with a foundation of experience in 
their common work. If the school knows to what work the student 
goes, it can, by a little advice, help him meet these first disadvantages 
which are inherent to the situation. The school should do this. 

The high schools should endeavor to enHst a large number of the 
students in those activities which are planned to develop in the stu- 
dent the power of initiative. It must be unfortunate if students have 
been under direction throughout their entire school course. It may 
be the case that the assigned work employs theif energies so completely 
that they lose all desire to learn anything which they are not directed 
or required to do by some one in authority. 

A girl who had been graduated from one of our high schools and had 
afterwards taken a course in stenography in a business school was sent 



196 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

by the employment committee of her own school to the chairman of 
the general committee. Her family had made sacrifices in order to 
secure for the girl the training which should make her independent. 
She had been attracted to stenography by the glowing terms in which 
a girl friend had painted this work. As she had been out of school 
for some time and was out of practice she was employed by the general 
committee until a suitable opening presented itself. After a week, 
an opening did present itself, and on the recommendations of the 
committee she was taken on trial and she held the position just one 
day. She was in despair over the failure. She had been well taught, 
she had good judgment in the use of words and was able to take notes 
and to transcribe correctly. She had no special interest in learning 
an unfamiliar typewriting machine at which she was set to work by 
the committee, she was satisfied to ask her employer to make the 
adjustments of the machine for her, she had not learned to keep her 
papers in order, or that the work must be done in a specified time. 
She expected her employer to be the successor of the indulgent teach- 
ers who had always been ready to wait upon her, and to put her things 
in order for her after the day's work was over. She may learn these 
lessons, but I fear that she also will pay heavily for the tuition. 

If the pupils of our high schools are to be trained to go out for serv- 
ice, they must be taught to take some interest in their own surround- 
ings, and ought to be made responsible for the things which they use 
and handle in school. In another state they are wrestling with an 
unfeeling member of the school board who cannot be made to see why 
the taxpayers should pay the laundry bills for the domestic science 
classes of the high schools. In our city, the students learn that 
high-salaried teachers must be ready to hand out to them paper and 
pencil and pen whenever they have need for the same. They learn 
to be waited on, and for the time it may be well enough, but it makes 
it so hard when they fall into the hands of an employer who does not 
readily learn new ways of doing things. 

Just one more criticism. In one of the large evening schools, on a 
given evening a notice was sent to all the rooms requesting that those 
who were seeking employment should be sent to a room for a conference 
with a member of the committee. It was particularly specified that 
this conference would be at 7.30 o'clock. This was the time for the 
opening of the session, and it was assumed that the boy who was out 
of employment and who failed to be promptly on hand at the opening 
of the session was not a boy whom the committee cared to recommend. 
At the time specified eighteen candidates out of an attendance of over 
eight hundred appeared. After a very brief talk, the representative 
of the committee observed that two of the candidates were likely to 
prove acceptable to employers from whom calls had been received. 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 197 

Letters of introduction were given to these two, and the next day they 
both reported engagements. By way of a test, the others were in- 
structed to prepare a letter of appKcation. They were directed to 
state in a separate letter to the representative of the committee what 
they would like to do and to make their letter of application to the 
employers a clear statement of the reasons why they should be engaged 
for the desired position. They were told that the committee would 
forward these letters to employers in the chosen lines of business. 
They were also instructed to have these letters ready the following 
evening at 7.15. Let it be remembered that this crowd of sixteen 
represented a very small remnant and the poorest remnant of all the 
great army from which it was sifted by the merciless operation of the 
laws of selection. Why were they eliminated? 

The next evening at the appointed time not one had appeared. 
The first one, when questioned, remarked that he " didn't think it 
mattered." It was particularly specified that they were to write 
letters on unruled papers because it was supposed that it would be 
necessary for them to specially purchase this paper for this purpose. 
Not one had that kind of paper. Some had foolscap ; most of them 
had little sheets of cheap letter paper, because they thought it "would 
do just as well." The writing was fairly good, but the matter of the 
letters was very indifferently expressed, and either the ability or the 
disposition to carry out instructions was absent. 

On several occasions, through the courtesy of advertisers, I have 
been permitted to have the letters of rejected applicants for positions, 
and I am of the opinion that such letters are written largely by the 
element which was represented in this evening school residuum of 
sixteen. As young people, such persons are imemployable. 

A discussion of this problem with many employers leads us to the 
belief that the kind of vocational training which the best of employers 
of this city would appreciate and the kind of vocational training which 
will be the best insurance against imemployment does not depend upon 
the content of the course of study. It is the vocational training which 
will give the student the capacity to understand instructions, the 
ability to interpret them, and the disposition to obey orders even 
though he does not at the time understand the reasons for doing what 
is required of him. 

Let me not be misunderstood. I am dwelling upon these inefficient 
students for the purpose of calling attention to some things which might 
be remedied. These cases are the more noticeable because so few stu- 
dents whose progress has been followed by the members of the commit- 
tee have failed to meet the expectations of their employers. By way of 
contrast with these bits of biography which I have given, let me quote 
from a letter which has been received by a member of the committee : — 



198 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

" Perhaps you have forgotten me. When I graduated from the 
high school, I came to you with a long tale of woe because I could not 
afford to go to college in order to fit myself to become an engineer. 
You kindly planned a course for me and secured for me a position. 
I have been advanced from time to time by my employer. I am now 
twenty-one years old, and by the time the next college year begins, I 
shall have to my credit in the savings bank $1200. Some time ago 
I told my boss of my plans, and I offered to get him a high school boy 
to break in to do my work before I should leave. 

" A few days afterwards he called me into his office and asked me 
fully about my plans. He then offered to put me in charge of a new 
department which the firm is organizing, if I should agree to remain 
with them. The firm is rapidly expanding its business, is connected 
with some of the leading financial institutions and contracting firms 
of the city. 

" Now the question is, shall I give up my long-cherished plan to go 
to college? I have argued myself to a standstill on the subject, and I 
must depend upon you for advice. For any consideration which you 
can give the question and any time you can spare me at your con- 
venience, let me thank you in advance, and let me again express my 
gratitude for your kindness and help in the past." 

In a leading editorial in the Brooklyn Eagle under date of June 2, 
1908, in referring to the work of the committee, the writer ended with 
this remark, " Some of the finest results of teaching come not from the 
routine of the classroom, but from the incidental association of pupils 
with men and women of character and helpfulness." The letter files of 
the committee are an indication of the confidential relations which 
exist between the pupils and their high school teachers. 

Departmental teaching, the semiannual reorganization of the 
schools and the unusual size of our high schools tend to prevent the 
development of these confidential relations between pupils and teacher, 
unless special attention is given to the matter. 

This interest in the student should not cease after his graduation. 
The successful student makes an appreciated school, and where the 
school is appreciated by the patrons, the work of the teacher becomes 
easier, and the influence of the school over the student becomes stronger. 

As the ratio of the young people to the entire population of a city 
becomes less and less, it becomes more and more important that every 
cause which hinders the proper development of the young people 
should be removed. If the young people who go out from our schools 
and colleges of the smaller city of this day are not ready when their 
time comes in the much larger city of the future to manage the great 
■ enterprises, the alien must come in and do it for them. 

The young people must be well equipped, and they must be started 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 199 ' 

in the right direction, but the large concerns in which they are em- 
ployed should be so organized as to give to their workers rea"sohabie • 
encouragement to continue their own development after they enter ■ 
upon their employment. 

In order to insure continuity of employment and to be enabled to ■• 
direct the subsequent development of these young people who were 
sent to their first employers, the committee has encouraged them to 
make periodical reports of their progress and to call upon the members 
for consultation, and it has been particularly emphasized that no stu- 
dent for whom the committee stood sponsor should of his own accord 
leave an employer without first consulting with the representative of 
his school. 

After making all due allowance, the committee has learned enough 
from these reports of the young workers to be deeply impressed with 
the necessity for a change in the methods of handling new recruits, 
which even at this advanced day prevail in some business estab- 
lishments. 

We had a bright boy who was compelled to leave school because of 
the death of his father. In the course of the routine of our work we 
mail our employment circulars to firms by whom boys who come to us 
seeking work have been discharged. In answer to one of these circu- 
lars we received a request for a boy for a firm from whose services an 
evening school student had been discharged a few days before. They 
desired to secure a well-bred, intelligent boy to begin with " small 
salary and prospects of advancement." A representative of the 
committee went with the orphan to interview the manager. It was 
just the boy for whom he had been looking, and he was ready to engage 
him at once. The boy was expected to come to the place of business 
early, to set in order the outer office and to act as a sort of page and 
doorkeeper. After talking .with the young fellow who had been dis- 
charged by the firm, it was discovered that he had been doing just 
that work for about two years, receiving four dollars a week the first 
year and five dollars the second year, and that he was expecting an 
increase to six dollars. Instead of advancing him, he was dismissed, 
and the firm saved two dollars a week by employing a new boy. 

The business biography of another boy who went out of the lower 
grades of one of our schools four years ago indicates that he has been 
specially trained by the firm which employs him, and at present he 
is taking at one of our best schools a course of lessons in Spanish. The 
firm pays the tuition and allows him the time to attend upon instruc- 
tion. In this city, the special training which is required in different 
lines of business is so varied that it would seem to be impossible for the 
schools to arrange to give all the training and instruction which may be 
needed to fit students for highly specialized service. To secure this 



200 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

specialized training, the student must sacrifice so much time and energy, 
and since much of it has so Httle value outside of one particular line, and 
considering that the business interests of the city must pay for this 
training whether given in the school before the boy enters upon his 
employment or given after he enters the service of a given firm, it 
would seem far more economical for the firms who seek the services of 
specialists to encourage their own employees to acquire the required 
skill. Much of this specialized training is of far more value to the firm 
than it is to the individual, and the individual should not be expected 
to serve the firm at a loss to himself while he is getting the experience 
and special skill which is needed by the firm, unless that special skill 
has some value to the individual outside of his work in connection 
with that particular firm. 

The worst of these antiquated methods is the fact that this unregu- 
lated apprentice service gives opportunity to unprincipled individuals 
to speculate upon the needs of the most helpless part of the com- 
munity. A most aggravated case of this kind came to the attention 
of the committee. It should be said at the outset that such cases are 
not numerous. The vocation record of an evening school student 
was brought to the attention of the committee. The card showed that 
the boy had graduated from an elementary school at the age of four- 
teen ; this seemed to indicate that he was a normal boy. He had been 
in the service of the same employer during the two years since gradua- 
tion ; this seemed to indicate that he was reliable and faithful. He 
had been regular and punctual in his attendance upon the evening 
school since graduating from the elementary school, even though he 
had to travel considerable distance in order to reach the evening 
school ; this seemed to indicate that he had ambition and tenacity of 
purpose. His earnings were given at $3.50 per week. He was sent 
for, and a quiet talk was had with him in regard to his prospects and the 
nature of his employment. The boy's father was dead, his mother 
was a working woman, and the boy's employer was a member of the 
church of which both the boy and his mother were members. The 
boy and the mother were under the impression that he was learning 
a trade ; on the contrary, the boy was employed to deliver packages 
of considerable value in different parts of the city. It was necessary 
to hold a special conference with the boy's mother to secure her con- 
sent to permit the boy to accept employment at another place at seven 
dollars a week. 

It is usual for a member of a committee to call upon a firm when the 
first request for help is received in order to know what is expected, so 
that selections may be more carefully made. The manager pf a long- 
established firm, by way of apology for the low wages which it offered, 
said that the boys have opportunity to earn considerable above their 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 201 

regular weekly pay. A good young fellow was sent to them. In 
his first report he wrote : " I am only receiving $6 per week. The other 
fellows think I am easy because I do not fall into the practice of delay- 
ing my work until after the closing hour so that I can cash in my 
overtime check for the extra fifty cents which is paid to those who are 
kept beyond the usual time." This system surely seemed to offer a 
premium to delinquents, and it did not really add to the earnings of 
the boys, because the extra fifty cents was considered as so much 
money " found " and was squandered accordingly. In justice to the 
firm it may be added that when the young man's letter was forwarded 
to the manager, he promptly promoted the writer over the heads of his 
fellows to a more responsible position at increased pay. 

The committee has issued a special circular setting forth some of 
the conditions under which boys are accepted by responsible firms in 
order to learn trades. It has been surprising to notice how few boys 
cared to consider these opportunities. This may be due to the expe- 
rience of other members of their famiUes. In most of the trades the 
boys and girls are made to be parts of automatic machines so long 
that they become useless to themselves and the community and their 
employers whenever a change on the methods of the factory puts the 
particular machine at which they are working out of business, A boy 
of twenty who had found himself a part of such an organization was 
struggling to emancipate himself. After several conferences with 
him, his evening school teacher reported what seemed to be the condi- 
tions of this factory. It was a fountain pen factory. All the parts 
were made by specially constructed and automatic machinery. A 
worker's highest efficiency was secured by keeping him at one of these 
machines. Boys and girls were found to be taught readily and to 
become, in a little time, very efiicient, but the work was deadening, 
and it destroyed the worker himself. After he had grown up, he lost 
some of his muscular activity, became restless because of the low wages 
which prevailed in the shop, was discharged, and other boys were hired 
to take his place. 

Even if a boy should develop a higher skill than that which is 
demanded by the particular work which he is engaged to do, it is 
difficult in many highly organized concerns for him to make his new 
acquisitions known to his responsible superiors. These superiors are 
not so much to blame in many cases as the system under which the 
work is carried on. A young man who graduated from one of our high 
schools four years ago was employed in a large factory. After he had 
been at work for some time with the firm, in a conference with his 
adviser, he expressed an ambition to get into the firm's laboratory. 
He was directed to enter Cooper Institute for the evening course in 
chemistry and to specialize in the work which was most likely to be 



202 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

required by his firm. He took the advice, plodded on year after year 
in his self-imposed task, and completed his education in that line, but 
he could not get his firm to recognize nor to consider his request to be 
transferred to the department for which he had prepared himself. 
It was only after he had secured a position with another firm through 
the efforts of the committee that his former employers made him an 
offer to advance him to the laboratory. 

It would be wrong to leave the impression that other methods do not 
prevail. The best firms employ especially trained men and women to 
look after the welfare of their employees ; many of them have in oper- 
ation systems which are designed to develop the efl&ciency of their 
employees and to bring to the front those who show unusual degrees of 
efficiency. Others offer cash premiums and valuable prizes to the 
employees who show special skill or who devise improvements in the 
methods of doing business. 

But enough has been said. The employers of labor have done 
much to make this great city what it is. They need our young people. 
There are those who deserve the best we can give them. Courses of 
study, fixed programs and graduation from the high school are im- 
portant, but the real important aim is to keep the boy in school until 
he is fit for something and then to have him ready, when the demand 
comes for him, to hand over to the employer for whose services by 
nature and training he is best fitted and whose service is designed to 
develop the employee as well as to profit the employer. 

This work has passed the experimental stage, and the committee 
has recommended (i) that the vocational officers of the large high 
schools should be given at least one extra period of unassigned time to 
attend to this work and that they should be relieved from all special 
assignments in consideration of the time out of school which this work 
is likely to require, (2) that they should be provided with facilities for 
keeping the records of the students who go out froni their schools and 
the records of the requirements of the employers who may call upon 
them from time to time for assistance in selecting recruits for their 
service, (3) and that they should be furnished opportunities for hold- 
ing conferences with students and employers. 

Through these vocational advisers the schools may be able to help 
the comparatively small number who need help of this kind. For the 
larger number it is not so much that they need help in securing em- 
ployment as that they need advice in wisely selecting their work and 
oversight in working out their vocational aims. That this advice 
may be given wisely, a knowledge of the constantly changing wants 
of the city must be made available to teachers. To secure this 
knowledge and to make it available to teachers and students, there 
should be a properly organized vocational directory for the community. 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 203 

The functions of the director should be to enlist the cooperation of the 
business men to study the requirements of employers and to establish 
friendly relations between groups of employers and those schools 
which, because of the character of their students, their location or 
their facilities for instruction, are best designed to meet the wants of 
these employers. He would also be in a position to recommend such 
modifications of the work of the schools as to enable them best to 
meet the wants of the employers with whom they are in touch. 

Such a vocational director should collect and make available for 
the teachers, and for the students of the several schools through pub- 
lications and lectures, information which should deal with the require- 
ments for success in the learned professions, the skilled trades and the 
commercial pursuits, the readiest means through which these require- 
ments can be met by the young people, and the return which properly 
qualified young people may expect after they enter the several voca- 
tions. By anticipating industrial and commercial changes through 
such an agency it would be possible to prevent the overcrowding in 
some lines of work and to provide for the needs of new activities. The 
vocational director of the community would be doing for its young 
people, in order to help them realize their highest possibilities, what the 
government is now doing for the industrial and agricultural classes. 

Such a plan, to be successful in the highest degree, must enlist all 
classes of employers, and serve impartially all efficient educational 
agencies of the city. In order to enable him to be the real exponent 
of the business community, to be free to refuse to help inefficient stu- 
dents and to aid unfair employers, the general vocational director 
should perhaps be supported independently of the school authorities. 

Maintenance of such a general vocational agency would require 
but a fraction of the amount which would be needed to endow a 
college. Because it would provide a means of stimulating the intel- 
lectual enterprises of the city, provide an agency for promoting greater 
industrial efficiency, become an active force for insuring the welfare 
of large masses, the organization and development of a pioneer enter- 
prise of this kind must surely appeal to generously minded people of 
this city who have been so ready in the past to give vast fortunes for the 
establishment of training schools in this and in other lands, and other 
fortunes for the amelioration of the conditions of the defective, the de- 
pendent and the delinquent classes. It is an appeal to them to estabhsh 
proper guide posts which will enable poor but deserving young people of 
this city who have struggled to fit themselves for usefulness and whose 
parents meanwhile have made sacrifices to find their way to success with- 
out loss of time or waste of energy in the very complex life of this city. 

Report of the Work of the Students' Aid Committee of the High School Teachers' 
Association of New York City, by E. W. Weaver. 1909. 



204 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

PROBLEMS FOR STUDY AND DISCUSSION 

1. Study carefully for critical discussion the self-examination 
questions prepared by the Boston Vocation Bureau, Parsons, Choos- 
ing a Vocation. 

2. What influences tend to make a youth postpone unduly the 
choice of his life work? What remedies can you suggest for this 
condition ? 

3. What can be said for or against the early realization of a life- 
career motive ? 

4. Outline carefully the social importance and social need for voca- 
tional guidance. Bloomfield, 1-23 ; 109-116. 

5. Describe the different types of vocational guidance attempted 
both in this country and abroad. (Bloomfield, Publications of the 
"Students' Aid Committee" of New York City, etc.) 

6. Vocational guidance as an aspect of pubHc education. 

7. The training and duties of the vocational counselor. 

8. What are some of the dangers attending the work of vocational 
guidance ? 

REFERENCES ON VOCATIONAL GUIDANCE 

Bloomfield, Meyer. The Vocational Guidance of Youth, Riverside 
Educational Monograph. Boston, 191 1. Classified bibliography. 

Brooks, Stratton D. "Vocational Guidance," S. Rev., 19:42, 

Gordon, Mrs. Ogilvie, Handbook of Employments. Aberdeen, Scot- 
land. 

Hanus, Paul H. "Vocational Guidance and Public Education, S. 
Rev., 19 : 57, 

Keeling, Frederick, The Labor Exchange in Relation to Boy and 
Girl Labor. London. 

Leavitt, F. M. " The Boston Conferences on Industrial Education 
and Vocational Guidance," S. Rev., 19 : 63. 

Leslie, F. J, Wasted Lives. Liverpool, 1910, 

Munsterberg, Hugo. "The choice of a vocation," in American 
Problems. New York, 1910. 

Parsons, Frank. Choosing a Vocation. Boston, 1909. The best 
account of the practical work of the vocational counselor, ex- 
amination questions, sample interviews, etc. 

Students' Aid Committee of the High School Teachers' Association of 
New York City, E. W, Weaver, Chairman. This committee 



VOCATIONAL DIRECTION 205 

publishes a number of bulletins containing practical suggestions 
on choosing a vocation, e.g. " Choosing a Career, a circular of in- 
formation for boys," etc. 

Womens' Educational and Industrial Union. Vocations for the Trained 
Woman, other than Teaching. Boston, 1910. 

"Vocational guidance, a conference on," Outlook, Vol. 96, 659. Edi- 
torial, December 10. 

Vocations, a library of practical information for young men and 
women. 10 vols. President William DeW. Hyde, Editor-in-chief. 



CHAPTER XI 

EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 

The School and Social Progress 

We are apt to look at the school from an individualistic stand- 
point, as something between teacher and pupil, or between teacher 
and parent. That which interests us most is naturally the progress 
made by the individual child of our acquaintance, his normal physi- 
cal development, his advance in ability to read, write and figure, his 
growth in the knowledge of geography and history, improvement in 
manners, habits of promptness, order and industry, — it is from such 
standards as these that we judge the work of the school . And rightly 
so. Yet the range of the outlook needs to be enlarged. What the 
best and wisest parent wants for his own child, that must the commu- 
nity want for all its children. Any. other ideal for pur schools is nar- 
row and unlovely ; acted upon, it destroys our democracy. All that 
society has accomplished for itself is put, through the agency of the 
school, at the disposal of its future members. All its better thoughts 
of itself it hopes to realize through the new possibilities thus opened 
to its future self. Here individualism and socialism are at one. Only 
by being true to the full growth of all the individuals who make it up, 
can society by any chance be true to itself. And in the self-direction 
thus given, nothing counts as much as the school, for, as Horace Mann 
said, " Where anything is growing, one former is worth a thousand 
re-formers." 

Whenever we have in mind the discussion of a new movement in 
education, it is especially necessary to take the broader, or social, 
view. Otherwise, changes in the school institution and tradition 
will be looked at as the arbitrary inventions of particular teachers; 
at the worst transitory fads, and at the best merely improvements 
in certain details — and this is the plane upon which it is too custom- 
ary to consider school changes. It is as rational to conceive of the 
locomotive or the telegraph as personal devices. The modification 
going on in the method and curriculum of education is as much a 

206 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 207 

product of the changed social situation, and as much an efifort to 
meet the needs of the new society that is forming, as are changes 
in modes of industry and commerce. 

It is to this, then, that I especially ask your attention : the effort 
to conceive what roughly may be termed the " New Education " 
in the light of larger changes in society. Can we connect this " New 
Education " with the general march of events? If we can, it will 
lose its isolated character, and will cease to be an affair which pro- 
ceeds only from the overingenious minds of pedagogues dealing 
with particular pupils. It will appear as part and parcel of the whole 
social evolution, and, in its more general features at least, as inevi- 
table. Let us then ask after the main aspects of the social move- 
ment; and afterwards turn to the school to find what witness it 
gives of effort to put itself in line. And since it is quite impossible 
to cover the whole ground, I shall for the most part confine myself 
to one typical thing in the modern school movement — that which 
passes under the name of manual training, hoping, if the relation of 
that to changed social conditions appears we shall be ready to con- 
cede the point as well regarding other educational innovations. 

I make no apology for not dwelling at length upon the social changes 
in question. Those I shall mention are writ so large that he who 
rims may read. The change that comes first to mind and the one 
that overshadows and even controls all others, is the industrial one — 
the application of science resulting in the great inventions that have 
utilized the forces of nature on a vast and inexpensive scale: the 
growth of a world-wide market as the object of production, of vast 
manufacturing centers to supply this market, of cheap and rapid 
means of communication and distribution between all its parts. 
Even as to its feebler beginnings, this change is not much more than 
a century old ; in many of its most important aspects it falls within 
the short span of those now living. One can hardly believe there 
has been a revolution in all history so rapid, so extensive, so com- 
plete. Through it the face of the earth is making over, even as to 
its physical forms; political boundaries are wiped out and moved 
about, as if they were indeed only lines on. a pq,per map ; population 
is hurriedly gathered into cities from the, ends of the earth ; habits 
of living are altered with startling abruptness , and thoroughness ; 
the search for the truths of nature is infinitely stimulated and facili- 
tated and their application to life made not only practicable, but 
commercially necessary. Even our moral and religious ideas and 
interests, the most conservative because the deepest-lying things in 
our nature, are profoundly affected. That this revolution should 
not affect education in other than forma), and superficial fashion; is 
inconceivable. 



2o8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Back of the factory system lies the household and neighborhood 
system. Those of us who are here to-day need go back only one, 
two, or at the most three, generations, to find a time when the household 
was practically the center in which were carried on, or about which 
were clustered, all the typical forms of industrial occupation. The 
clothing worn was for the most part not only made in the house, 
but the members of the household were usually familiar with the 
shearing of the sheep, the carding and spinning of the wool, and the 
plying of the loom. Instead of pressing a button and flooding the 
house with electric light, the whole process of getting illumination 
was followed in its toilsome length from the killing of the animal 
and the trying of fat, to the making of wicks and dipping of candles. 
The supply of flour, of lumber, of foods, of building materials, of house- 
hold furniture, even of metal ware, of nails, hinges, hammers, etc., 
was in the immediate neighborhood, in shops which were constantly 
open to inspection and often centers of neighborhood congregations. 
The entire industrial process stood revealed, from the production on 
the farm of the raw materials, till the finished article was actually 
put to use. Not only this, but practically every member of the 
household had his own share in the work. The children, as they gained 
in strength and capacity, were gradually initiated into the mysteries 
of the several processes. It was a matter of immediate and personal 
concern, even to the point of actual participation. 

We cannot overlook the factors of discipline and of character 
building involved in this : training in habits of order and of industry, 
and in the idea of responsibility, of obligation to do something, to 
produce something, in the world. There was always something 
which really needed to be done, and a real necessity that each 
member of the household should do his own part faithfully and in 
cooperation with others. Personalities which became effective in 
action were bred and tested in the medium of action.. Again, we 
cannot overlook the importance for educational purposes of the close 
and intimate acquaintance got with nature at first hand, with real 
things and materials, with the actual processes of their manipulation'; 
and the knowledge of their social necessities and uses. In all this 
there was continual training of observation, of ingenuity, construc- 
tive imagination, of logical thought and of the sense of reality acquired 
through first-hand contact with actualities. The educative forces 
of the domestic spinning and weaving, of the sawmill, the grist- 
mill, the cooper shop and the blacksmith forge were continuously 
operative. 

No number of object lessons, got up as object lessons for the sake 
of giving information, can afford even the shadow of a substitute 
for acquaintance with the plants and animals of the farm and gar- 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 209 

den, acquired through actual living among them and caring for them. 
No training of sense organs in school, introduced for the sake of 
training, can begin to compete with the alertness and fullness of 
sense life that comes through daily intimacy and interest in familiar 
occupations. Verbal memory can be trained in committing tasks, 
a certain discipline of the reasoning powers can be acquired through 
lessons in science and mathematics; but, after all, this is somewhat 
remote and shadowy compared with the training of attention and of 
judgment that is acquired in having to do things with a real motive 
behind and a real outcome ahead. At present, concentration of in- 
dustry and division of labor have practically eliminated household 
and neighborhood occupations — at least for educational purposes. 
But it is useless to bemoan the departure of the good old days of 
children's modesty, reverence and implicit obedience, if we expect 
merely by bemoaning and exhortation to bring them back. It is radi- 
cal conditions which have changed, and only an equally radical change 
in education suffices. We must recognize our compensations — 
the increase in toleration, in breadth of social judgment, the larger 
acquaintance with human nature, the sharpened alertness in read- 
ing signs of character and interpreting social situations, greater ac- 
curacy of adaptation of differing personalities, contact with greater 
commercial activities. These considerations mean much to the 
city-bred child of to-day. Yet there is a real problem: how shall 
we retain these advantages, and yet introduce into the school some- 
thing representing the other side of life — occupations which exact 
personal responsibilities and which train the child with relation to 
the physical realities of life? 

When we turn to the school, we find that one of the most striking 
tendencies at present is toward the introduction of so-called manual 
training, shop work and the household arts — sewing and cooking. 

This has not been done " on purpose," with a full consciousness 
that the school must now supply the factor of training formerly 
taken care of in the home, but rather by instinct, by experimenting 
and finding that such work takes a vital hold of pupils and gives them 
something which was not to be got in any other way. Conscious- 
ness of its real import is still so weak that the work is often done in 
a half-hearted, confused and unrelated way. The reasons assigned 
to justify it are painfully inadequate or sometimes even positively 
wrong. 

If we were to cross-examine even those who are most favorably 
disposed to the introduction of this work into our school system, we 
should, I imagine, generally find the main reasons to be that such 
work engages the full spontaneous interest and attention of the chil- 
dren. It keeps them alert and active, instead of passive and recep- 



2IO SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

tive; it makes them more useful, more capable and hence more 
inclined to be helpful at home ; it prepares them to some extent for 
the practical duties of later life — girls to be more efficient house 
managers, if not actually cooks and seamstresses; the boys (were 
our educational system only adequately rounded out into trade 
schools) for their vocations. I do not underestimate the worth of 
these reasons. Of those indicated by the changed attitude of the 
children I shall indeed have something to say in my next talk when 
speaking directly of the relationship of the school to the child. But 
the point of view is, upon the whole, unnecessarily narrow. We 
must conceive of work in wood and metal, of weaving, sewing and cook- 
ing, as methods of life, not as distinct studies. 
, We must conceive of them, in their social significance, as types of 
I the processes by which society keeps itself going, as agencies for bring- 
p ing home to the child some of the primal necessities of community 
I life and as ways in which these needs have been met by the growing 
I insight and ingenuity of man ; in short, as instrumentalities through 
I which the school itself shall be made a genuine form of active commu- 
nity life, instead of a place set apart in which to learn lessons. 

A society is a number of people held together because they are 
working along common lines, in a common spirit, and with reference 
to common aims. The common needs and aims demand a growing 
interchange of thought and growing unity of sympathetic feeling. 
The radical reason that the present school cannot organize itself as 
a natural social unit is because just this element of common and pro- 
ductive activity is absent. Upon the playground, in game and sport, 
social organization takes place spontaneously and inevitably. There 
is something to do, some activity to be carried on, requiring natural 
divisions of labor, selection of leaders and followers, mutual coopera- 
tion and emulation. In the schoolroom the motive and the cement 
of social organization are alike wanting. Upon the ethical side, the 
tragic weakness of the present school is that it endeavors to prepare 
future members of the social order in a medium in which the con- 
ditions of the social spirit are eminently wanting. 

The difference that appears when occupations" are made the articu- 
lating centers of school life is not easy to describe in words ; it is a 
difference in motive, of spirit and atmosphere. As one enters a busy 
kitchen in which a group of children are actively engaged in the 
preparation of food, the psychological difference, the change from more 
or less passive and inert recipiency and restraint to one of buoy- 
ant outgoing energy is so obvious as fairly to strike one in the face. 
Indeed, to those whose image of the school is rigidly set the change 
is sure to give a shock. But the change in the social attitude is 
equally marked. The mere absorption of facts and truths is so ex- 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 21 1 

clusively individual an affair that it tends very naturally to pass 
into selfishness. There is no obvious social motive for the acquire- 
ment of mere learning, there is no clear social gain in success thereat. 
Indeed, almost the only measure for success is a competitive one, 
in the bad sense of that term — a comparison of results in the recita- 
tion or in the examination to see which child has succeeded in getting 
ahead of others in storing up, in accumulating the maximum of in- 
formation. So thoroughly is this the prevalent atmosphere that for 
one child to help another in his task has become a school crime. Where 
the school work consists in simply learning lessons, mutual assistance, 
instead of being the most natural form of cooperation and associa- 
tion, becomes a clandestine effort to relieve one's neighbor of his 
proper duties. Where active work is going on all this is changed. 
Helping others, instead of being a form of charity which impoverishes 
the recipient, is simply an aid in setting free the powers and further- 
ing the impulse of the one helped. A spirit of free communication, 
of interchange of ideas, suggestions, results, both successes and failures 
of previous experiences, becomes the dominating note of the recita- 
tion. So far as emulation enters in, it is in the comparison of in- 
dividuals, not with regard to the quantity of information personally 
absorbed, but with reference to the quality of work done — the 
genuine community standard of value. In an informal but all the 
more pervasive way, the school life organizes itself on a social basis. 
Within this organization is found the principal of school disci- 
pline or order. Of course, order is simply a thing which is relative 
to an end. If you have the end in view of forty or fifty children learn- 
ing certain set lessons, to be recited to a teacher, your discipline 
must be devoted to securing that result. But the end in view is the 
development of a spirit of social cooperation and community life; 
discipline must grow out of and be relative to this. There is little 
order of one sort where things are in process of construction ; there 
is certain disorder in any busy workshop ; there is not silence ; per- 
sons are not engaged in maintaining certain fixed physical postures ; 
their arms are not folded ; they are not holding their books thus and 
so. They are doing a variety of things, and there is the confusion, 
the bustle, that results from activity. But out of occupation, out 
of doing things that are to produce results, and out of doing these in 
a social and cooperative way, there is born a discipline of its own 
kind and type. Our whole conception of school discipline changes 
when we get this point of view. In critical moments we all realize 
that the only discipline that stands by us, the only training that be- 
comes intuition, is that got through life itself. That we learn from 
experience, and from books or the sayings of others only as they are 
related to experience, are not mere phrases. But the school has been 



212 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

so set apart, so isolated from the ordinary conditions and motives 
of life, that the place where children are sent for discipline is the one 
place in the world where it is most difficult to get experience — the 
mother of all discipline worth the name. It is only where a narrow 
and fixed image of traditional school discipline dominates that one 
is in any danger of overlooking that deeper and infinitely wider disci- 
pline that comes from having a part to do in constructive work, in con- 
tributing to a result which, social in spirit, is none the less obvious 
and tangible in form — and hence in a form with reference to which 
responsibility may be exacted and accurate judgment passed. 

The great thing to keep in mind, then, regarding the introduction into 
the school of various forms of active occupation is that through them 
the entire spirit of the school is renewed. It has a chance to affiliate 
itself with life, to become the child's habitat, where he learns through 
direct living instead of being only a place to learn lessons having an 
abstract and remote reference to some possible living to be done in 
the future. It gets a chance to be a miniature community, an embry- 
onic society. This is the fundamental fact, and from this arise con- 
tinuous and orderly sources of instruction. Under the industrial re- 
gime described, the child, after all, shared in the work, not for the 
sake of the sharing, but for the sake of the product. The educational 
results secured were real, yet incidental and dependent. But in the 
school the typical occupations followed are freed from all economic stress. 
The aim is not the economic value of the products, but the develop- 
ment of social power and insight. It is this liberation from narrow 
utilities, this openness to the possibilities of the human spirit, that 
makes these practical activities in the school allies of art and cen- 
ters of science and history. 

But all this means a necessary change in the attitude of the school, 
one of which we are as yet far from realizing the full force. Our 
school methods, and to a very considerable extent our curriculum, 
are inherited from the period when learning and command of certain 
symbols, affording as they did the only access to learning, were all- 
important. The ideals of this period are still largely in control, even 
where the outward methods and studies have been changed. We 
sometimes hear the introduction of manual training, art and science 
into the elementary, and even the secondary, schools deprecated on 
the ground that they tend toward the production of specialists — 
that they detract from our present scheme of generous, liberal cul- 
ture. The point of this objection would be ludicrous if it were not 
often so effective as to make it tragic. It is our present education 
which is highly specialized, one-sided and narrow. It is an educa- 
tion dominated almost entirely by the medieval conception of learn- 
ing. It is something which appeals for the most part simply to the 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 



213 



intellectual aspect of our natures, our desire to learn, to accumulate 
information, and to get control of the symbols of learning; not to 
our impulses and tendencies to make, to do, to create, to produce, 
whether in the form of utility or of art. The very fact that manual 
training, art and science are objected to as technical, as tending 
toward mere specialism, is of itself as good testimony as could be 
offered to the specialized aim which controls current education. Unless 
education had been virtually identified with the exclusively intellec- 
tual pursuits, with learning as such, all these materials and methods 
would be welcome, would be greeted with the utmost hospitality. 

But why should I make this labored presentation? The obvious 
fact is that our social life has undergone a thorough and radical change. 
If our education is to have any meaning for life, it must pass through 
an equally complete transformation. This transformation is not 
something to appear suddenly, to be executed in a day by conscious 
purpose. It is already in progress. Those modifications of our 
school system which often appear (even to those most actively con- 
cerned with them, to say nothing of their spectators) to be mere changes 
of detail, mere improvement within the school mechanism, are in 
reality signs and evidences of evolution. The introduction of active 
occupations, of nature study, of elementary science, of art, of history ; 
the relegation of merely symbolic and formal studies to a secondary 
position ; the change in the moral school atmosphere, in the relation of 
pupils and teachers — of discipline ; the introduction of more active, 
expressive and self-directing factors — all these are not mere accidents; 
they are necessities of the larger social evolution. It remains but 
to organize all these factors, to appreciate them in their fullness of 
meaning, and to put the ideas and ideals involved into complete, 
uncompromising possession of our school system. To do this means 
to ir,ake each one of our schools an embryonic community life, active 
and with types of occupations that reflect the life of the larger society, 
and permeated throughout with the spirit of art, history, and science. 
When the school introduces and trains each child of society into mem- 
bership within such a little community, saturating him with the 
spirit of service, and providing him with the instruments of effective 
self-direction, we shall have the deepest and best guarantee of a large 
society which is worthy, lovely and harmonious. ... 

From the standpoint of the child, the great waste in the school 
comes from his inability to utilize the experiences he gets outside 
the school in any complete and free way within the school itself ; while, 
on the other hand, he is unable to apply in daily life what he is learn- 
ing at school. That is the isolation of the school — its isolation from 
life. When the child gets into the schoolroom, he has to put out of 
his mind a large part of the ideas, interests and activities that pre- 



214 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

dominate in his home and neighborhood. So the school, being un- 
able to utilize this everyday experience, sets painfully to work, on 
another tack and by a variety of means, to arouse in the child an 
interest in school studies. While I was visiting in the city of Mo- 
line a few years ago, the superintendent told me that they found many 
children every year, who were surprised to learn that the Mississippi 
River in the textbook had anything to do with the stream of water 
flowing past their homes. The geography being simply a matter of the 
schoolroom, it is more or less of an awakening to many children to 
find that the whole thing is nothing but a more formal and definite 
statement of the facts which they see, feel and touch every day. 
When we think that we all live on the earth, that we live in an at- 
mosphere, that our lives are touched at every point by the influence 
of the soil, flora and fauna, by considerations of light and heat, and 
then think of what the school study of geography has been, we have 
a t5rpical idea of the gap existing between the everyday experiences 
of the child and the isolated material supplied in such large measure 
in the school. This is but an instance, and one upon which most of 
us may reflect long before we take the present artificiality of the school 
as other than a matter of course or necessity. 

Though there should be organic connection between the school 
and business life, it is not meant that the school is to prepare the 
child for any particular business, but that there should be a natural 
connection of the everyday life of the child with the business environ- 
ment about him, and that it is the affair of the school to clarify and 
liberahze this connection, to bring it to consciousness, not by intro- 
ducing special studies, like commercial geography and arithmetic, 
but by keeping alive the ordinary bonds of relation. The subject 
of compound-business partnership is probably not in many of the 
arithmetics nowadays, though it was there not a generation 
ago, for the makers of textbooks said that if they left out 
anything, they could not sell their books. This compound-business 
partnership originated as far back as the sixteenth century. The 
joint-stock company had not been invented, and as large commerce 
with the Indies and Americas grew up, it was necessary to have an 
accumulation of capital with which to handle it. One man said, 
"I will put in this amount of money for six months," and another, " So 
much for two years," and so on. Thus by joining together they got 
money enough to float their commercial enterprises. Naturally, then, 
" compound partnership " was taught in the schools. The joint- 
stock company was invented, compound partnership disappeared, 
but the problems relating to it stayed in the arithmetics for two hun- 
dred years. They were kept after they had ceased to have practical 
utility, for the sake of mental discipline — they were " such hard 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 215 

problems, you know." A great deal of what is now in the arithme- 
tics under the head of percentage is of the same nature. Children 
of twelve and thirteen years of age go through gain-and-loss calcula- 
tions and various forms of bank discount, so complicated that the 
bankers long ago dispensed with them. And when it is pointed 
out that business is not done this way, we hear again of 
" mental disciphne." And yet there are plenty of real connections 
between the experience of children and business conditions which 
need to be utilized and illuminated. The child should study his 
commercial arithmetic and geography, not as isolated things by them- 
selves, but in their reference to his social environment. The youth 
needs to become acquainted with the bank as a factor in modern life, 
with what it does, and how it does it ; and then relevant arithmetical 
processes would have some meaning — quite in contradistinction 
to the time-absorbing and mind-killing examples in percentage, par- 
tial payments, etc., found in all our arithmetics. 

There is much of utter triviality of subject matter in elementary 
and secondary education. When we investigate it, we find that it 
is full of facts taught that are not facts, which have to be unlearned 
later on. Now, this happens because the " lower " parts of our 
system are not in vital connection with the " higher." The uni- 
versity or college, in its idea, is a place of research, where investi- 
gation is going on ; a place of libraries and museums, where the best 
resources of the past are gathered, maintained and organized. It 
is, however, as true in the school as in the university that the spirit 
of inquiry can be got only through and with the attitude of inquiry. 

The pupil must learn what has meaning, what enlarges his horizon, 
instead of mere trivialities. He must become acquainted with truths, 
instead of things that were regarded as such fifty years ago, or that 
are taken as interesting by the misunderstanding of a partially 
educated teacher. It is difficult to see how these ends can be reached 
except as the most advanced part of the educational system is in com- 
plete interaction with the most rudimentary. 

The school must come out of its isolation and secure the organic 
connection with social life of which we have been speaking. 

The object of these forms of practice in the school is not found 
chiefly in themselves, or in the technical skill of cooks, seamstresses, 
carpenters and masons, but in their connection, on the social side, 
with the life without, while on the individual side they respond to the 
child's need of action, of expression, of desire to do something, to be 
constructive and creative, instead of simply passive and conforming. 
Their great significance is that they keep the balance between the 
social and individual sides — the chart symbolizing particularly the 
connection with the social. Here on one side is the home. How 



2i6 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

naturally the lines of connection play back and forth between the home 
and the kitchen and the textile room of the school ! The child can 
carry over what he learns in the home and utilize it in the school, 
and the things learned in the school he applies at home. These are 
the two great things in breaking down isolation, in getting connec- 
tion — to have the child come to school with all the experience he 
has got outside the school, and to leave it with something to be imme- 
diately used in his everyday life. The child comes to the traditional 
school with a healthy body and a more or less unwilling mind. Though, 
in fact, he does not bring both his body and mind with him ; he has 
to leave his mind behind, because there is no way to use it in the school. 
If he had a purely abstract mind, he could bring it to school with him, 
but his is a concrete one, interested in concrete things, and unless 
these things get over into school life, he cannot take his mind with 
him. What we want is to have the child come to school with a whole 
mind and a whole body, and leave school with a fuller mind and an 
even healthier body. 

Thus I have attempted to indicate how the school may be connected 
with life so that the experience gained by the child in a familiar, com- 
monplace way is carried over and made use of there, and what the 
child learns in the school is carried back and applied in everyday 
life, making the school an organic whole instead of a composite of 
isolated parts. The isolation of studies as well as of parts of the 
school system disappears. Experience has its geographical aspect, 
its artistic and its literary, its scientific and its historical, sides. All 
studies arise from aspects of the one earth and the one life lived upon 
it. We do not have a series of stratified earths, one of which is mathe- 
matical, another physical, another historical and so on. We should 
not live very long in any one taken by itself. We live in a world 
where all sides are bound together. All studies grow out of rela- 
tions in the one great common world. When the child lives in varied 
but concrete and active relationship to this common world, his studies 
are naturally unified. It will no longer be a problem to correlate 
studies. The teacher will not have to resort to all sorts of devices 
to weave a little arithmetic into the history lessons, and the like. 
Relate the school to life, and all studies are of necessity correlated. 

Moreover, if the school is related as a whole to life as a whole, its 
various aims and ideals — culture, discipline, information, utility — 
cease to be variants, for one of which we must select one study and for 
another, another. The growth of the child in the direction of social 
capacity and service, his larger and more vital union with life, be- 
comes the unifying aim ; and discipline, culture and information 
fall into place as phases of this growth. 

J. Dewey, Extracts from The School and Society. Chicago, 1899. 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 217 

Relation of Education to Social Progress 

Thoughtful people of all times have regarded the school as an im- 
portant factor in social evolution. 

Ross ^ says, " School education, in our day, is a mighty engine of 
progress. The teacher has a wider outlook and a freer mind than the 
average parent." Scott,^ " The school at its best is a prophecy of a 
better and nobler life." Ellwood,^ " Education is a means of control- 
ling habit and character in complex social groups, and as such it is the 
chief means to which society must look for all substantial social prog- 
ress. It is the instrument by which human nature may be apparently 
indefinitely modified, and hence, also, the instrument by which so- 
ciety may be perfected. The task of regeneration is essentially a 
task of education." Dewey calls the school a fundamental means of 
social progress and reform. Such statements as these should stimulate 
the student of the social aspects of education not only to a detailed 
and careful analysis of the relation of education to progress, but also 
to a determination of the ways in which it may play an even larger 
part in social development. 

To deal even in a general way with such questions as these, we need 
to have at least a working hypothesis of what may properly be 
meant by social progress. We must be careful, however, not to 
devote attention to mere niceties of thought so as to lose sight of the 
more concrete and practical phases. 

It is easier to tell some of the changes that have taken place and are 
taking place in society than to define progress abstractly. If we are 
convinced beforehand that modern society is progressive, we will then 
think of these changes as, in the main, making for progress. We all 
probably believe, for one thing, that genuine social progress must mean 
increased human happiness in some form or other. This is not the 
place to discuss the conditions of happiness. The ultimate ground of 
happiness, of course, is the individual himself and his way of looking 
at life and the thoughts he harbors in his mind. There are, to be sure, 
many external conditions which help or hinder the development of 
the proper inner attitude, and social progress may be stated to some 
extent in terms of these external conditions. Hence we think of de- 

1 Social Psychology. ^ Social Education. ' Sociology and Modern Social Problems. 



2i8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

crease of disease, poverty and crime, betterment of heredity, increase 
of general material comfort, of opportunities for recreation and social 
intercourse, opportunity for each individual to engage in some sort 
of production recognized as useful to society and increase of knowl- 
edge as evidences of social progress. 

Human society is in process of ceaseless change and differentiation, 
changes which often seem to bear no positive relation to individual 
and social betterment. In fact, the chief difficulty of defining human 
progress lies in its complexity and in the fact that it is too often un- 
equal. In the long run, the mastery and the conservation of the re- 
sources of nature are elements of social evolution, although at any 
given moment misery rather than increased happiness may seem to be 
the outcome. Progress, we may conceive, as involving a series of 
more or less complex changes in human nature, in social relations and 
in man's relation to his environment which, in the long run, make for 
greater general happiness and greater efficiency in the attainment 
of life's ideals.^ 

How are these things accomplished? Ellwood specifies three 
means. " The lowest method of evolution was by [natural] selection, 
and that . . . cannot be neglected. The next method of social evolu- 
tion apparently to develop was the method of adaptation by organized 
authority, and . . . organized authority in society, or social regulation 
by means of authority, must indefinitely persist and perhaps increase, 
rather than diminish; but the latest and highest method of social 
evolution is not through biological selection nor through the exercise 
of despotic authority, but through the education of the individual. 
. . . Human society may be modified best, we now see, through 
modifying the nature of the individual, and the most direct method 
[of doing] this is through education." ^ 

When we come to specify in detail the ways in which education 
may make for social betterment, we note first of all what it may actu- 
ally accomplish when reduced to its lowest terms. The crude edu- 
cation of savage peoples serves to keep the primitive social group up 

* It would carry us far beyond our present purpose to attempt to say what these ideals 
are, or whence they come. We shall here simply assume that man has ideals and that prog- 
ress is to be measured by the degree of his attainment of them, 

* Sociology and Modern Social Problems, p. 318. 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 219 

to the existing level of culture. It is at least a conserver of existing 
culture. In some way or other, every society must accomplish this 
much, or retrogression is inevitable. Furthermore, every educational 
process tends to be selective. Not every aspect of even a primitive 
culture can be taught in detail ; something must be chosen and much 
ignored, and, in the long run, it is probable that the higher aspects of a 
society's culture are selected and emphasized through education. In 
this way, something, little though it may be, is contributed to the ad- 
vancement of the social group. It is then through the more or less 
conscious selection of the more useful knowledge, and of the best 
modes of conduct and through the endeavor to eliminate the less de- 
sirable habits and modes of thought, that society is able in some meas- 
ure to lift itself through its schools. It is of course the ideal of the 
best educators to teach the best and most stimulating phases of human 
achievement, to fill the minds of boys and girls with noble examples of 
high-minded living from history and literature. In so doing, they 
are contributing in an important way to social progress. The chief 
limitation of this influence is that it does not occupy the child's at- 
tention sufficiently. There are so many other influences within and 
without the school to dim, if not to obliterate, the impression. How- 
ever, something can thus be accomplished. To give some very simple 
illustrations, the level of purity and effectiveness in the use of the 
mother tongue can thus be raised. The appreciation of the best liter- 
ature can be more widely disseminated; public taste for music and 
art can be improved. There can be no doubt but that by such a pro- 
cess of wise selection of materials the schools do effect a gradual im- 
provement in society in various lines. In precisely the same way 
moral improvement of society may be fostered, although pitiably lit- 
tle in this direction is to-day attempted by public education. 

It is manifest, however, that selection will not go far toward se- 
curing social progress unless it is guided by a consciousness of its possi- 
bilities and a systematic attempt to utilize the opportunities afforded. 
It is just this conscious and definite attempt to select and teach the 
best to the immature members of the social group that is the most 
significant aspect of modern educational activity. 

In the chapters preceding we have taken up various aspects of this 
extension of current education. The movements for vocational train- 



220 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

ing, for playgrounds, for school gardens, all represent various attempts 
to select, emphasize and promote certain desirable aspects of present- 
day culture. 

In these far-reaching extensions of teaching activity it would seem 
that, for the first time, social progress is to be definitely and largely 
determined by educational forces. It is perhaps suf&cient, for all 
practical purposes, to recognize these tendencies and to note that they 
are apparently a natural and inevitable expression of the type of social 
life which is unfolding in our midst. The thinker, however, will be 
interested to relate this broadening of educational activity to general 
social movements, to determine if possible the principles underlying 
this extension of the teaching function. In other words, to find, if 
possible, a consistent theoretical justification for the school as an active 
factor in the processes of social readjustment and social progress. 

This justification, on the side of educational theory, may be based 
upon the point of view presented in earlier sections of this book; 
namely, that in the beginning educational activity takes its rise in 
some more or less clearly felt social need. Social groups demand 
training of particular kinds, and various schools spring up to furnish 
it. All schools depend ultimately upon some aspect of the social 
process for their right to exist. 

Schools are not, however, mere tools, mere passive instruments for 
the registration and expression of an external social will. They them- 
selves represent a part of the general activity of society, one of its 
institutions, one mode of expression of the social consciousness. Ac- 
cording to this conception it is not the function of educational pro- 
cesses simply to register social progress. Educational forces may 
quite legitimately take an active and conscious part in the general 
struggle upward. 

If society be conceived as organized, in part at least, into various 
institutions, each with a more or less distinct function, then it is easy 
to see that progress, whatever it may be, is largely a resultant of the 
activities of the various institutions, one of the ways in which these 
institutions perform their respective functions. There is not, in other 
words, any particular institution or portion of society which is alone 
responsible for the progress of society as a whole. Each part must 
contribute its impulse, its share to the larger movement. It should 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 221 

be the business of each part of the social body consciously and syste- 
matically to extend and to develop its particular function. It is thus 
that the church expands and presses into new and wider fields of serv- 
ice; so with organized charities, systems of exchange and of com- 
munication. All these phases of social activity are constantly de- 
veloping new aspects, new modes of expression. The public press is a 
particularly good illustration of this development and expansion of a 
given function. In addition to merely printing and circulating an 
account of the events of the day, it frequently undertakes to make 
original investigations in all sorts of vital social and political problems 
and give its findings to the public. In various ways this publicity 
function has expanded, until its points of contact with society as a 
whole far surpass anything of which the first publishers ever dreamed. 

It is, in fact, only as a social agent keeps dynamic and progressive 
that it can maintain itself in a progressive society, for the work which 
such a society needs to have done is, in the nature of the case, growing 
in complexity, and either old agents must be able to handle it or new 
means of meeting the need must be developed. 

Now, with reference to the school, its function is preeminently that 
of instruction and training, and not only is there a greater social need 
than ever before for just this type of service, but also it is more than 
ever the business of the school to study current situations with refer- 
ence to new ways of teaching and training, not merely children, but 
even adults. The educational forces of the country must systemati- 
cally study and work out new avenues and modes of expressing the 
teaching function. That the burden of this development will depend 
largely upon those engaged in educational work is natural, because 
they above all should be in touch with the general social need of in- 
struction. They, best of all, should be able to see wherein the work of 
the schools can be profitably extended so as to perform various social 
services as yet unprovided for. 

This presupposes an extension of the teaching function far beyond 
that which first appeared necessary in primitive social groups. But 
present-day society is vastly more complex, and why should not this 
aspect of its activity be correspondingly broader? And why should 
not those charged with the duties of instruction study to extend their 
work still further, to exploit, as it were, their fimction in the social 



222 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

group ? Only as every element of the social plexus is dynamic, or 
reaching out for fuller and more complex modes of expression, can there 
be genuine social progress. There is, in fact, no logical reason why 
the educational forces of a commimity should not be constantly striv- 
ing to extend their activities on every side as far as they have resources 
and as far as they do not find the field preempted by other forces. 
There is really no intrinsic limit to the development of any function 
except the limit of resources and the possible preemption of the field 
by other social agencies. 

There is another aspect of the problem of the relation of education 
to progress which should not be neglected by the student who wishes 
to go into the matter thoroughly. Our attention has thus far been 
fixed upon the school's opportunity to influence progress through the 
material or content which it selects and impresses upon the learner. 
The further question arises as to whether the way in which a thing is 
taught as well as the thing itself has any significance for progress; that 
is, whether it may be taught so as to cultivate individuality and an 
eager progressive spirit in the learner, or whether it serves rather to 
obliterate the child's native spontaneity and adjust him to more or 
less predetermined external conditions. To answer this question 
requires some consideration of the familiar concept of the ideal of 
social progress as some sort of adjustment to a particular kind of 
environment. 

Many thinkers on sociological subjects have followed the lead of 
Herbert Spencer, who, in his Data of Ethics, defines the goal of human 
progress as complete conformity or adaptation to environment. Thus, 
a recent writer defines social progress as " the adaptation of society 
to a wider and more universal environment. The ideal of human 
progress is apparently adaptation to a perfectly universal environ- 
ment, such an adaptation as shall harmonize all factors whether in- 
ternal or external, present or remote, in the life of humanity." ^ 

As these concepts are further defined and discussed, they lose some 
of their vagueness. Taken, however, on their face value, they seem 
to imply an external, inflexible, physical and social order to which the 
indi\ddual can do nothing more than conform, or adjust, himself. 
There might be some question as to whether in this and in many other 

1 Ellwood, Sociology and Modern Social Problems, p. 314. 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 223 

formulations of the meaning of progress, there is not too great stress 
placed upon adaptation to environment. It depends, of course, to a 
large extent upon what is meant by environment. The conceptions 
both of adaptation and of environment have come into social and edu- 
cational science from biology. In biology the term " environment " has 
undoubtedly been taken to mean a relatively fixed set of external con- 
ditions to which living forms must conform or perish. The environ- 
ment is like an unyielding Procrustean bed on which all surviving forms 
must succeed in stretching themselves. The environment demands 
speed of the deer, and speed it must gain, or perish. It may be prop- 
erly said that the deer thus becomes adjusted to its environment. 

It is true that for the lower forms of life the environment is practi- 
cally fixed and fairly simple. But the higher we rise in the scale of 
being, the more complex and plastic it becomes, the more subtle are 
the ways in which it affects the organism. With growing complexity 
it becomes more plastic, more subject to change. Moreover, the higher 
forms of life on which this complex environment plays become increas- 
ingly capable of modifying it, of adjusting it to themselves as well as 
themselves to it. We may find clear beginnings of this adjustment of 
the environment to the animal form in the animal series below man. 
Whenever a bird builds a nest for its eggs, instead of laying its eggs on 
the ground, it is as truly a utilizing of environment, an adaptation of 
it to the bird's needs as it is an adaptation of the bird to the environ- 
ment. The bird is no longer at the mercy of the elements. The mud, 
sticks, straw, strings, become plastic at its deft touch and are serv- 
ants instead of unyielding masters. 

The higher the position in the scale of life, the greater and more 
manifest becomes the capacity of the living form to adjust the environ- 
ment to itself. The human species, of course, affords the most con- 
spicuous examples of this capacity. We do not, to be sure, lose sight 
of many and great adaptations, on the part of man himself, but if 
man's adaptations of his environment to his unfolding needs have not 
been as great as the changes he himself has been forced to undergo, 
they at least cannot be ignored. The whole process of civilization has 
been a gradual freeing of mankind from subserviency to brute natural 
conditions. More and more has it been possible to readjust and re- 
shape these conditions until, as is sometimes said, civilized man lives 



224 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

in a highly artificial environment. Of course, this is not an en^dron- 
ment which any one individual has constructed. It is the result of 
the collective activity of many generations, but it is none the less arti- 
ficial and none the less an adjustment of nature to meet man's needs. 
The foods, the clothing, the shelter, of the modern man are all the re- 
sults of his determination to change his environment rather than him- 
self. It is true that in all this utilization and adjustment of the forces 
and materials of nature to himself there has been a measure of adapta- 
tion on man's part to the conditions imposed by nature. The culti- 
vation of the soil for a crop of grain is both adaptation of and adapta- 
tion to the conditions of nature. The building of a dam that we may 
render the power of the water available to run a mill is making nature 
serve us, but this is attained through submitting to certain conditions 
imposed by nature. We have to-day harnessed some of the exhaust- 
less supplies of electrical energy which have been present everywhere 
in nature since the beginning of time. In this we have made nature 
serve us, but we have also had to meet conditions imposed by nature, 
among others the construction of a certain type of machine, the dy- 
namo. In making dynamos and building power houses we are in a real 
sense adjusting ourselves to our environment, but this concession on 
our part has resulted in even greater concessions to us on the part of 
our environment. 

We may, then, properly think of the environment as well as the man 
as plastic, changing quantities. The environment is not the whole 
world outside of the individual's own body. It is actually only an 
infinitesimal portion of this world, that limited portion which we have 
to contend with in our effort to realize some impulse or desire. It is 
that plexus of materials and forces, whether mechanical, vegetable, 
animal or human, which we must either readjust so that it will cooper- 
ate with us or at least not obstruct us in our purposes or with reference 
to which we must reconstruct our purposes, and be content to carry 
them out in some modified form, that forms the real environment. 

Human evolution may then, from one point of view, be regarded as 
a progressive realization of purposes through gradually increasing 
skill in detecting the environmental materials and forces which can 
be turned to account in their realization. 

The whole situation involved in progress is complicated and subtle 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 225 

in the highest degree. It defies, in fact, really adequate statement. 
We cannot describe one aspect of it without apparently doing some 
other aspect of it injustice. With due recognition of this fact, we may at 
least say that no concept of social progress based merely on the biologi- 
cal idea of adjustment or adaptation to a fixed environment is adequate 
or even true. For any one individual, life may seem to involve more 
adjustment than utiUzation — and yet, if progress, on the whole, con- 
sists in utilizing as well as adjusting, it is clear that a progressive so- 
ciety must have a good proportion of individuals who are capable of 
large initiative, who shape conditions to suit their purposes rather 
than merely suit their purposes to conditions. 

The fundamental condition of human progress is the human quality 
of eagerness, of impulse, of reaching out for something as yet unat- 
tained. This lies at the basis of all social unrest and consequent so- 
cial changes. It is the quality possessed by those individuals and 
races which have been endlessly experimenting, trying to do things 
in new ways, prjdng into the hidden things of nature, exploring with 
avidity the surface of the globe and discovering its character and re- 
sources. The races which have been most active in these ways are 
said to be the progressive races. Not that mere change means prog- 
ress. It may as easily be retrogression. But, unless there is an 
impulse to strike out into new paths, to try new things, there can be 
little or no movement either one way or the other, 

A certain amount of progress is possible among peoples which pos- 
sess little initiative, but it is dependent upon the slow action of nat- 
ural selection, and it is questionable whether a really high social state 
could be attained in any such manner. The savage races of the present 
day are recognized as essentially unprogressive. What little they 
have attained to has probably come through blind natural selection. 
But natural selection unaided does not seem to be able to do more 
than produce an adaptation little different from that of the brute to 
the physical environment. Here is mere adaptation without initia- 
tive, without that divine discontent which changes the environment 
to suit one's needs instead of submitting to it. The unclothed body 
of the central Australian has become inured to the extremes of cold 
and heat to which it has been subjected for unknown generations. 
His stomach has become adjusted to the food conditions. Sometimes 
Q 



226 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

nature furnishes abundant food, sometimes almost none. He is able 
to live under conditions which impose on him alternate gorging and 
deprivation. This remarkable endurance of the Australian has been 
gradually wrought out by natural selection. Those who could not 
conform perished by inexorable law. The central Australians, there- 
fore, present a remarkable degree of adaptation to environment. At 
their hands natural conditions have suffered a minimum of alteration. 
They have not tried to make clothes or to construct any adequate 
shelter or to till the soil. They eat the roots, fruits, game and even 
the grubs and insects that nature provides. They have simply taken 
things as they are and have learned to endure them, except that en- 
durance is not the proper word from their point of view, for they know 
nothing else and are therefore quite content. 

Similar and more or less striking illustrations are afforded by all other 
nonprogressive races. There is no question but that the stage of 
culture they have reached is almost purely the result of natural selec- 
tion. When we turn to the so-called progressive races, we find large 
numbers who simply conform to conditions imposed upon them. 
There are always a greater or less number, however, who are restive 
under all conditions; they are always reaching out and apparently 
seeking for fuller and fuller expression of themselves. 

The qualities of perseverance, energy, curiosity, eagerness for ex- 
periment and exploration, in a word, initiative, are probably native 
ones, the peculiar endowments of certain races. It seems likely that 
the beginnings of the qualities may be attributed to natural selection. 
But one of the important fields of operation of these qualities has been 
that of the training of children. In other words, the progressive quali- 
ties, themselves largely beyond our control, set in operation forces 
and modes of activity which may and do contribute greatly to social 
improvement. 

The betterment and the increased eflaciency of human life are in a 
large measure dependent upon conscious purpose. Man lifts himself 
by giving thought thereto, and not the least effective means of taking 
thought is through education. 

Even in the lowest savage societies, education, while not making for 
progress, performs, as we have seen, an important function. It at 
least helps maintain the tribe in its existing culture. In various crude 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 227 

ways the accomplishments of the fathers are impressed upon the chil- 
dren. There is no thought or desire that the children shall improve 
upon the ways of the fathers. In fact, in all savage types of educa- 
tion, impulses to vary a jot or tittle from the pattern are severely 
repressed. The keynote of their training is unquestioning imitation. 
But even at this level, education preserves that which has been 
attained, though it does not make for higher levels of efficiency. 

It is somewhat surprising at first thought to find this same emphasis 
upon imitation in the education of the progressive races. The chief 
concern of adult society seems to be that the children should spend 
most of their time acquiring the wisdom and skill of the past. We 
should not criticize this concern if it had coupled with it a clearer 
recognition that this is only the beginning of the process, not an end 
in itself but a means to an end. The most precious heritage of pro- 
gressive races is personal initiative, and their most serious problem 
is how to conserve and direct this initiative wisely. Undirected, it is 
of no more value than unconfined steam; it is mere vaporing. 

The child studies certain aspects of the culture of past generations, 
not merely to absorb it or to become, as it were, a receptacle in which 
to preserve that culture intact, as the arts and crafts of other times are 
preserved in museums for the inspection of the curious. He studies 
rather that he may use, that he may have better tools for the expres- 
sion of his initiative, that his impulses may avoid past failures and 
take advantage of past successes. 

The emphasis in a truly progressive society must then be upon a wise 
cultivation of the individual capacities of the child for initiative rather 
than upon his simply acquiring in passive fashion the culture of the 
past. This is a broad generalization which must be interpreted with 
due recognition of varying conditions. Children vary in their individual 
capacity for initiative. Some persons will attain the most useful 
lives when they simply follow unswervingly in the steps of their fathers. 
Moreover, the importance of cultivating initiative in progressive so- 
cieties does not rest upon the narrow conception of education as merely 
for the making of great leaders. It is true, however, that the qualities 
of leadership, for which there is such a large place in the modern world, 
will be fostered and developed by such a type of education. But 
while all cannot be leaders in various lines of industrial, professional, 



228 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

political and social activity, all do need, in wider or narrower spheres, 
the capacity of self-direction and the alertness to meet and take ad- 
vantage of new conditions. A part of the poverty and crime of mod- 
ern society is due to the rapid changes in the conditions of life. The 
pauper is not merely the inefficient one; he is often one who was by 
his training fitted or adjusted to a social and industrial order which 
had changed ere he had established himself. He could not readjust 
himself to fit the new conditions, and hence dropped down into the 
ranks of the incapable. 

Here we see the great objection to the ideal of education as adjust- 
ment, especially if adjustment is taken to refer to a fixed social order.^ 
A fixed social order is a characteristic of savagery rather than of civili- 
zation. It certainly does not exist amongst ourselves. A child trained 
for a particular t)rpe of service in modern society will almost surely 
find conditions so altered when he comes to try his hand that unless 
he possesses a large endowment of initiative and originality he will 
have great difficulty in fitting in. That so large a proportion of our 
young men and women do succeed in life is an evidence of their large 
native endowment along these lines. It may be safely said that mod- 
ern school education does little to cultivate this which is not merely 
so essential to individual success in present-day society, but which is 
also a fundamental condition of human progress. 

The forces of education fall far short of being as effective for prog- 
ress as they might be. They are adjusted to an older and less pro- 
gressive social order. Hence, it is natural that it should lay relatively 
great emphasis upon discipHne, conformity to type, adjustment to en- 
vironment, as ends in themselves instead of as tools to the attainment 
of other things. 

A common statement of the end of education as social efficiency 
attains its fullest meaning when it is recognized that this depends 
quite largely upon the development of individuality and initiative 
in the school child under the guidance of social ideals and in connection 
with daily opportunities for social service. Of course an uncontrolled 
development of these qualities would be a social curse rather than a 

1 To say that the object of education is to adjust the child to a progressive society is 
simply another way of saying that initiative must be emphasized. The term "adjust- 
ment" is here misleading and should be dropped. 



EDUCATION AS A FACTOR IN SOCIAL PROGRESS 



229 



blessing. We no longer believe in the unmitigated doctrine of lais- 
sez-faire in social life. The greatest good for the group is not attained 
by permitting each individual to cultivate all his native endowments 
of initiative for himself alone. In emphasizing the place of initiative 
in the education of a progressive society, we have constantly in mind, 
then, the absolute requirement that it shall, throughout, be dominated 
by ideals of social responsibility and social service. 

REFERENCES ON EDUCATION AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 

Addams, Jane. Democracy and Social Ethics, Chapter VI. 

Carlton, F. T. Education and Industrial Evolution, Chapter IV. 

Dewey, John. The School and Society. Extracts from, reprinted in 
this chapter. 

Eliot, Charles. The Conflict between Collectivism and Individualism 
in a Democracy. Chapter II, The need of concerted action 
on the part of educators to conserve the desirable human "sport." 

Ellwood, Charles A. Sociology and Modern Social Problems, 
Chapter XV. "Education and social progress." Definition of 
social progress. Need of recognition of social nature of education 
if progress is to be furthered. 

Jenks, Jeremiah. Citizenship and the Schools. Chapter I, Train- 
ing for citizenship. Chapter II, Social basis of education. 

Ward, Lester. Applied Sociology, Chapters VIII-XII. 

Dynamic Sociology, Vol. II, Chapter XIV. 



CHAPTER XII 

EDUCATION AND SOCIAL REFORM 

We are here concerned with the problem of social reform in so far as 
it can be dealt with by educational means, and from one point of view 
this may be said to include the whole problem. The reformation of 
the individual, especially the youthful individual, is more and more 
recognized as a legitimate task for education in its larger sense. School- 
ing, in other words, may have as its object, not merely the development 
and instruction of the normal child, it may also succeed to a most sur- 
prising degree in making over the victims of perverted development. 
In a broad sense, all agencies of social reform are educational agencies ; 
that is, they are all concerned with effecting changes of some sort in 
people. The betterment of the individual physically, intellectually or 
morally is the starting point for all social improvement. 

The educational agencies which make for reform, if they are com- 
pletely enumerated, are of the most diverse character, and they may 
be directed toward the most diverse classes of people. Among these 
educational agencies must be included such activities as campaigns 
for parks and playgrounds, for school gardens, for medical inspection 
of schools and scholars, and even the various activities directed toward 
social amelioration in general. These, also, are educational in some 
sense. They aim primarily to effect changes in the attitudes and opin- 
ions of people, usually adults. Their imagination has to be quickened 
as to existing abuses'; their ideas have to be clarified ; their consciences 
may need to be developed. All such undertakings are, therefore, es- 
sentially educational in their nature, even though they lie outside the 
work of the school as such. More and more is it seen that social re- 
forms of every type must depend for their success upon an antecedent 
education of a portion of the people concerned that they may really 
demand the reform suggested. 

In this section, however, we may confine ourselves to a narrower 

230 



EDUCATION AND SOCIAL REFORM 



231 



aspect of education and social reform, that which is concerned with the 
deUnquent child. The proper care of the delinquent child is a ques- 
tion which belongs to the social aspects of education in a twofold de- 
gree : First, the end to be attained through caring for the delinquent 
is social betterment through diminishing the number of individuals in 
each generation with criminal or anti-social tendencies ; secondly, the 
means to this end is largely a more thoroughly sociahzed form of edu- 
cation than that which prevails for normal children. It is with this 
latter aspect, the means, that we are here especially concerned. 

Broadly speaking, the reform of the deUnquent child depends in 
most cases upon two factors — first, the removal or the correction of 
physical defects, and secondly, upon placing him in a thoroughly normal 
and healthful social environment which will stimulate growth in the 
right directions. Restraints and punishments of various sorts, neces- 
sary though they may be at times, are purely incidental and tem- 
porary, and are not to be regarded as far-reaching and generally valu- 
able means of improving character. 

The successful workers with juvenile delinquents quite properly 
assume that such boys and girls are usually not really "bad," but are 
rather on the road to badness through unfavorable conditions, either 
physical or social. Regarding unfavorable physical conditions, the 
words of the Superintendent of the Lyman School, Massachusetts, are 
significant : "I am coming to believe that much delinquency is due to 
low vitality that may be caused by various organic difl&culties. In the 
future, I am convinced that the medical and physical side of the work 
should be more and more emphasized. I attach much importance to 
the work of the physician in removing tonsils and adenoids, in giving 
a careful examination of the eyes and ears, and in giving especial care 
to any manifested organic troubles, such as the difficulties of the heart, 
lungs, and digestive organs. The work of the dentist [also] cannot 
be too highly recognized." ^ This attention to the physical condition 
of even the normal child is to-day regarded as a legitimate part of the 
work of the school, and it may thus be included among the ways in 
which the school may make for social reform. 

Delinquency is not, however, connected solely with physical defects, 
and, whether it is or not, it at least shows itself in some form of mal- 

^ Sixteenth Annual Report, 1910, p. 28. 



232 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

adjustment to social conditions. It is here that the second phase of 
the problem appears, and it is one of the serious problems of all civilized 
peoples. Adult civilized society, even at its best, presents many con- 
ditions which are unfavorable to the normal development of boys and 
girls. Such society, in its worse phases, is, of course, still more detri- 
mental to normal growth. Most boys and girls are born with certain 
propensities or impulses to activity of various sorts, which are quite 
healthful and upon the satisfaction of which normal growth depends. 
Among these are love of physical activity, of adventure, curiosity, and 
comradeship. These impulses and many others may be summarized 
in the phrase "superabundance of spirits." Every student of child 
life knows that these spirits are the raw material of character, and that 
they must have adequate and legitimate means of expression. Now 
it is certain that, with the increasing urbanization of the population, the 
opportunities for the normal expression of childhood impulses are pro- 
gressively diminished, and this is true in even the best social commu- 
nities. The interests of child and adult are different, and when these 
interests clash, for example, on the question of who may use the streets, 
the child usually has to give way to the adult. The outcome is almost 
inevitable ; namely, perverted or exaggerated expression of impulses. 

Thus the boy of well-to-do parents in the city seldom has sufficient 
opportunity for all the free, vigorous play which he needs. He can 
seldom go out in quest of the adventure he craves without infringing 
upon some social conventionality of adulthood. To make matters 
worse, he has little regular work outside of school, and even that may 
engage his energies only indifferently. Interest in work and a definite 
responsibility for something worth while to himself and to others are 
important factors in restraining the adult from immoraHty. The 
social demands made upon the boy usually lack these very character- 
forming elements. Society expects the boy to "just grow," failing to 
see that there are certain conditions of growth which are absolutely 
essential, and -that society must furnish these conditions. 

There are two general ways of offsetting the unnatural conditions of 
child life which modern society tends to develop. On the one hand, 
adequate opportunities for play and healthful work must be furnished 
to the city boy. This is to-day accomplished more and more through 
the supervised public playground and the school garden. Through 



EDUCATION AND SOCIAL REFORM 233 

such means the normal boy is kept sound, and the deUnquent boy is 
frequently restored to soundness. The juvenile court supplements 
the work of the playground and of the school garden by giving the sup- 
posedly bad child a fairer chance. 

In the second place, the delinquent child may be transferred to an 
environment especially adjusted to his needs, to a school, for example, 
where he can be subjected to those needful influences which were lack- 
ing in his home environment. In general, these schools probably pre- 
sent exaggerated conditions from the point of view of the normal child. 
In the Junior Republic, for instance, great stress is placed upon work, 
and each youth is completely responsible for his own economic support. 
If the delinquent boy is physically sound (as he must be if admitted to 
the Junior Republic) there is nothing which will straighten him out 
more effectively or speedily than just such responsibility. The reforma- 
tory influence of work, of economic interests and of corporate responsi- 
bility as illustrated in this school should receive the ^careful attention 
of the student at this point. 

It should also be noted that it is not only work and responsibility 
that the youth needs, but also the right sort of restraining public opin- 
ion and the right sort of social ideals. The possibility of building up 
such a social atmosphere and its character-forming power are ad- 
mirably illustrated in the work of the Junior Republic. Whatever the 
limitations in the scope of this school, — and it is confessedly not adapted 
to all types of delinquents, — it is at least a fine illustration of the de- 
pendence of reform upon an adjustment of social relationships. Aside 
from the correction of physical defects, it would seem that the problem 
of reforming the wayward child is really a problem of reforming social 
conditions so that his normal self may have a chance to develop. 

REFERENCES 

Addams, Jane. ** Public recreation and social moralif^^," Char., 18: 
492. 

Benson, W. E. "Manual training as a preventative of delinquency 
among colored children," N.C.C.C., 1904, pp. 257-268. 

Bergen, C. McP. "Relation of play to juvenile delinquency," Char., 
18:562. 



234 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Boston Children's Aid Society, Reports. 43-46 Charity Building, 
. Boston. 

Burns, Allen. "Relation of playgrounds to juvenile delinquency." 
Reprinted from The Proceedings of the Second Annual Playground 
Association, New York. 

Children's Aid Society of Pennsylvania, Reports. 1506 Arch St., 
Philadelphia. 

DeBolt, Mrs. L. N. "Industrial employment as a factor in the 
reformation of girls," N.C.C.C, 1900, 210-220. Girls taught 
habits of order, promptness, and health ; acquire self-control, 
self-repect, and ambition through industrial training. 

"DiscipHne and management of juvenile reformatories," Char. Rev., 
9 : 436-450. 1899. A helpful and valuable census of opinion. 

George, W. R. The Junior Republic. 1909. A stimulating, sug- 
gestive account of an important enterprise. 

Gunkel, J. E. Boyville, a History of Fifteen Years' Work among Boys. 
Toledo, 1905. Reform through social organization and wise 
leadership. 

Harcourt, Chas. "Reform for the truant boy in industrial train- 
ing and farming," Craftsman, 15 : 436. Secret of success is in the 
boy's being kept busy. 

Heller, Mrs. H. H. "The playground as a phase of social reform." 

Reprinted from The Proceedings of the Second Annual Playground 

Association. 
Henderson, C. R. Modern Methods of Charity, 1904. Brief accounts 

of preventative and reformatory measures in the United States 

and other countries. 
Industrial School for Boys of Wavkesha, Wisconsin, Reports. 

KiNGSLEY, Sherman C. "The substitution of family care for in- 
stitutional care for children," Proceedings of the Second New 
Jersey Conference of Charities and Corrections. 1903. Reprinted 
by the Boston Children's Aid Society. 1910. 

Lee, Joseph. Constructive and Preventive Philanthropy. 1902. 
Broad in scope, includes the home, vacation schools, baths, play- 
grounds, outings, boys' clubs, industrial training. 

LiNDSEY, B. B. " Childhood and morality," N.E.A., 1909, p. 147. 

"Reformation of the juvenile deUnquents through the juvenile 

courts," N.C.C.C. 1903. 

Lyman and Industrial Schools, Reports Massachusetts Public Docu- 
ments. 



EDUCATION AND SOCIAL REFORM 235 

Mangold, G. B. "The delinquent child," Bk. IV of Child Problems. 
New York, 1910. 

Morrison, W. D. Juvenile fenders. New York, 1897. 

New York's Juvenile Reformatories, C^ar., 12 : 621-630. 1904. Arti- 
cles on New York State Training School for Girls at Hudson, In- 
dustrial School at Rochester, House of Refuge at Randall's Island, 
and Reformatory at Hart's Island. 

NiBECKER, F. H. "Essential work of a juvenile reformatory," Char. 
i^ez^., 9 : 450-452. 1899. Shows that it is purely educational and 
should not be cut short before full results have been attained. 

Reeder, Rudolph. How Two Hundred Children Live and Learn. 
New York, 1909. Gives many interesting sidelights on proper 
methods of reform through education. 

Rhode Island, Reports of Board of State Charities and Corrections. 
Providence. 

RiCHMAN, Julia. "Incorrigible child," Ed. Rev., 31 : 484-506. 1906. 
Discusses the truancy problem and shows the methods of influence 
employed in a New York truant school. Points out the proper 
attitude of the teacher toward the misdemeanant. 

Snedden, D. S. "Public school and juvenile delinquency," Ed. Rev., 
33 : 374-385. 1907. Believes that the scope of the public school 
system should be enlarged so as to include all children of school age. 
Mentions points in which public schools and reform schools may 
profit by each other's experience. 

Administration and Educational Work of American Juvenile 

Reform Schools. New York, 1907. 

Spaulding, W. F. Delinquent and Wayward Children. The new 
Massachusetts methods of treatment. The law of 1906, together 
with an analysis of new legislation. The law establishing the 
Boston Juvenile Court. Pamphlet. 32 Brattle St., Cambridge. 
1907. 

"Modern juvenile court and its probation system," Mass. 

Prison Assoc, No. 26. Concord, N.H. 1909. 

"Possibilities of Probation System." Published by the Mass. 

Prison Assoc. 1908. 

Travis, Thomas. The Young Malefactor. New York, 1908. A 
study in juvenile delinquency. 

ZuEBLiN, Charles. "Public recreation," in American Municipal 
Progress, 1902, pp. 276-301. Describes the establishment of 
playgrounds, baths, recreation piers, in various cities, and a sum- 
mer camp for Boston boys. 



PART II 
INTERNAL SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

CHAPTER XIII 

THE GENERAL NATURE OF SOCIAL LIFE 

The General Nature of Social Life 

Education is in a double sense, as we have seen, a social process. 
We have thus far devoted ourselves to its larger or external relations. 
We have regarded it as one of the special functions of the great social 
complex in which it exists. We turn now to what may be called its 
internal social aspects, those aspects which grow out of the fact that 
the school is itself a little society. This corporate life of the school 
has definite and important bearings upon the process of learning, both 
in its particular and in its general aspects. In this section we shall 
consider, however, not merely the social life of the school and its bear- 
ings upon education, but certain aspects of the larger problem of the 
relation of society to the individual. 

It is important, before attempting to study the educational phases, 
to have some general understanding of the nature of social life itself. 

Human society is not composed of individuals merely massed to- 
gether as shot or pebbles may be piled up. It is a peculiarly intricate 
organization, and people are what they are because they were born 
into this organization and have grown up in it. Only in recent times 
has there been any appreciation of what society really is or how the 
individual person is related to it. When philosophers first began to 
think of these things, they tended to regard the human being as first 
of all an independent individual and of social relations as an after- 
thought, an expedient imposed upon men who were originally free 
from all such restraints. Thus Hobbes and Rousseau conceived of 

236 



THE GENERAL NATURE OF SOCIAL LIFE 237 

society as a voluntary compact into which men entered for mutual 
protection. The happiest state was that in which each lived to him- 
self alone, absolutely unfettered by social bonds of any sort. But 
men were inevitably thrown together, and society represents the out- 
come of a conscious attempt of people to adjust themselves to one 
another. It has involved also the voluntary surrender of many natu- 
ral privileges or rights for the sake of the advantages of combined 
action in offense and defense. 

In time it was seen by social philosophers that the voluntary con- 
tract theory did not accurately describe the facts. Society is an in- 
stinctive affair extending far back into the lower stages of animal life. 
Men have probably never lived alone, but rather always in groups. 
The fundamental traits of human personality have been developed, 
or built up, through human association, not in some supposedly prior 
individualistic state of being. Hence, man is fundamentally a social 
being. Every shred and fiber of his being is a resultant of his manifold 
and subtle relations with other people. He is not part individual and 
part social in his nature, he is rather all social. Hence, he has not, 
as a member of society, had to give up or suppress purely individual- 
istic impulses. The contrast is not between the individual and so- 
ciety but between different kinds of society, different sorts of social 
impulses. 

The theory that society is a conscious compact made between those 
who were naturally individualistic or antisocial thus gave way to the 
theory of society as an organism after the analogy of the biological 
organism, the individuals corresponding to the cells of the animal 
body, and the various social functions of protection, production, 
distribution and so forth, corresponding to such physiological func- 
tions as seeing, eating, digestion, circulation and respiration. This 
comparison of society to an organism is not without significance. It 
is certainly truer to some facts than was the " contract theory." It 
goes, however, to the opposite extreme, and through the analogy of the 
relation of the single cell to the whole animal body completely subor- 
dinates the individual to society. To hold that each individual is 
through and through a social being is not equivalent to saying that he 
has no worth of his own as an individual. He has a personal life quite 
other than that of the single cell, even though that life is formed by 



238^ SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

mutual action and reaction with other human beings. In other words, 
individuality is quite as real a fact as society; in no sense can we con- 
sider it as finally subordinate to a larger life in the way that the cell 
is subordinate to the life of the animal. These considerations have 
led to a still different conception; namely, that it is an organization 
rather than an organism. It is an organization of individuals inti- 
mately bound together in all they think and do and yet each possessed 
of a life of his own. No individual exists merely for the good of so- 
ciety. Each one has his own desires and purposes that demand satis- 
faction. They demand satisfaction, however, not as purely separate 
affairs, but in organic relation with the desires and purposes of other 
people. 

It is not here our purpose, however, to enter into a detailed study 
of social processes nor of the relation of the individual to society, but 
rather to get clearly defined the meaning of social or corporate life as a 
basis for the study of the social life of the school. The best illustra- 
tions of true corporate life are to be found in relatively small groups 
of people. These " primary groups " as Cooley calls them are the 
real units of society. In them we find the most adequate expression 
of human association. Inasmuch as a full appreciation of the nature 
of the life of the primary group is fundamental to the study of the social 
life of the school, extracts from Cooley's admirable discussion in his 
Social Organization are here reprinted. The student's first endeavor 
should be to gain a clear concept of the " primary groups " as actual 
existences in which he daily participates. He should find many 
examples of his own to illustrate the points made in the discussion. 

Primary Groups and Primary Ideals 

By primary groups I mean those characterized by intimate face-to- 
face association and cooperation. They are primary in several senses, 
but chiefly in that they are fundamental in forming the social nature 
and ideals of the individual. The result of intimate association, 
psychologically, is a certain fusion of individuals in a common whole, 
so that one's very self, for many purposes at least, is the common life 
and purpose of the group. Perhaps the simplest way of describing 
this wholeness is by saying that it is a " we " ; it involves the sort of 
sympathy and mutual identification for which " we " is the natural 



THE GENERAL NATURE OF SOCIAL LIFE 



239 



expression. One lives in the feeling of the whole and finds the chief 
aims of his will in that feeling. 

It is not to be supposed that the unity of the primary group is one 
of mere harmony and love. It is always a differentiated and usually 
a competitive unity, admitting of self-assertion and various appro- 
priative passions ; but these passions are socialized by sympathy, and 
come, or tend to come, under the discipline of a common spirit. The 
individual will be ambitious, but the chief object of his ambition will 
be some desired place in the thought of the others, and he will feel 
allegiance to common standards of service and fair play. So the boy 
will dispute with his fellows a place on the team, but above such dis- 
putes will place the common glory of his class and school. 

The most important spheres of this intimate association and co- 
operation — though by no means the only ones — are the family, the 
play group of children, and the neighborhood or community group of 
elders. These are practically universal, belonging to all times and 
all stages of development, and are accordingly a chief basis of what is 
imiversal in human nature and human ideals. The best comparative 
studies of the family, such as those of Westermarck or Howard, show 
it to us as not only a universal institution, but as more alike the 
world over than the exaggeration of exceptional customs by an earlier 
school had led us to suppose. Nor can any one doubt the general 
prevalence of play groups among children or of informal assemblies 
of various kinds among their elders. Such association is clearly the 
nursery of human nature in the world about us, and there is no ap- 
parent reason to suppose that the case has anywhere or at any time 
been essentially different. 

As regards play, I might, were it not a matter of common observa- 
tion, multiply illustrations of the universality and spontaneity of the 
group discussion and cooperation to which it gives rise. The general 
fact is that children, especially boys after about their twelfth year, 
live in fellowships in which their sympathy, ambition and honor are 
engaged even more, often, than they are in the family. Most of us can 
recall examples of the endurance by boys of injustice and even cruelty, 
rather than appeal from their fellows to parents or teachers — as, for 
instance, in the hazing so prevalent at schools, and so difficult, for 
this very reason, to repress. And how elaborate the discussion, how 
cogent the public opinion, how hot the ambitions in these fellowships. 

Nor is this facility of juvenile association, as is sometimes supposed, 
a trait peculiar to English and American boys ; since experience among 
our immigrant population seems to show that the offspring of the 
more restrictive civilizations of the continent of Europe form self- 
governing play groups with almost equal readiness. Thus Miss Jane 
Addams, after pointing out that the " gang " is almost universal, 



240 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

speaks of the interminable discussion which every detail of the gang's 
activity receives, remarking that " in these social folk-motes, so to speak, 
the young citizen learns to act upon his own determination." 

Of the neighborhood group it may be said, in general, that from the 
time men formed permanent settlements upon the land, down, at least, 
to the rise of modern industrial cities, it has played a main part in the 
primary, heart-to-heart Hfe of the people. Among our Teutonic fore- 
fathers the village community was apparently the chief sphere of 
sympathy and mutual aid for the commons all through the " dark " 
and middle ages, and for many purposes it remains so in rural districts 
at the present day. In some countries we still find it with all its ancient 
vitality, notably in Russia, where the mir, or self-governing village 
group, is the main theater of life, along with the family, for perhaps 
fifty millions of peasants. 

In our own life the intimacy of the neighborhood has been broken 
up by the growth of the intricate mesh of wider contacts which leaves 
us strangers to people who live in the same house. And even in the 
country the same principle is at work, though less obviously, diminish- 
ing our economic and spiritual community with our neighbors. How 
far this change is a healthy development, and how far a disease, is 
perhaps still uncertain. 

Besides these almost universal kinds of primary association, there 
are many others whose form depends upon the particular state of 
civilization, the only essential thing, as I have said, being a certain 
intimacy and fusion of personalities. In our own society, being little 
bound by place, people easily form clubs, fraternal societies and the 
like, based on congeniality, which may give rise to real intimacy. 
Many such relations are formed at school and college, and among men 
and women brought together in the first instance by their occupations 
— as workmen in the same trade, or the like. Where there is a 
little common interest and activity, kindness grows like weeds by the 
roadside. 

But the fact that the family and neighborhood groups are ascendant 
in the open and plastic time of childhood makes them even now incom- 
parably more influential than all the rest. 

Primary groups are primary in the sense that they give the indi- 
vidual the earliest and completest experience of social unity, and also 
in the sense that they do not change in the same degree as more elabo- 
rate relations, but form a comparatively permanent source out of 
which the latter are ever springing. Of course they are not indepen- 
dent of the larger society, but to some extent reflect its spirit ; as the 
German family and the German school bear somewhat distinctly the 
print of German militarism. But this, after all, is like the tide setting 
back into creeks, and does not commonly go very far. Among the 



THE GENERAL NATURE OF SOCIAL LIFE 241 

German, and still more among the Russian, peasantry are found 
habits of free cooperation and discussion almost uninfluenced by the 
character of the state; and it is a familiar and well-supported view 
that the village commune, self-governing as regards local affairs and 
habituated to discussion, is a very widespread institution in settled 
communities, and the continuator of a similar autonomy previously 
existing in the clan. ''It is man who makes monarchies and estab- 
lishes republics, but the commune seems to come directly from the 
hand of God." . . . 

These groups, then, are springs of life, not only for the individual 
but for social institutions. They are only in part molded by special 
traditions, and, in larger degree, express a universal nature. The re- 
ligion or government of other civilizations may seem alien to us, but 
the children or the family group wear the common life, and with them 
we can always make ourselves at home. . . . 

The view here maintained is that human nature is not something 
existing separately in the individual, but a group nature or primary 
phase of society, a relatively simple and general condition of the social 
mind. It is something more, on the one hand, than the mere instinct 
that is born in us — though that enters into it — and something less, 
on the other, than the more elaborate development of ideas and senti- 
ments that makes up institutions. It is the nature which is de- 
veloped and expressed in those simple, face-to-face groups that are 
somewhat alike in all societies ; groups of the family, the playground 
and the neighborhood. In the essential similarity of these is to be 
found the basis, in experience, for similar ideas and sentiments in the 
himian mind. In these, everywhere, human nature comes into exist- 
ence. Man does not have it at birth, he cannot acquire it except 
through fellowship, and it decays in isolation. . . . 

Life in the primary groups gives rise to social ideals which, as they 
spring from similar experiences, have much in common throughout 
the human race. And these naturally become the motive and test of so- 
cial progress. Under all systems men strive, however blindly, to realize 
objects suggested by the familiar experience of primary association. 

Where do we get our notions of love, freedom, justice and the like 
which we are ever applying to social institutions ? Not from abstract 
philosophy, surely, but from the actual life of simple and widespread 
forms of society, like the family or the play group. In these relations 
mankind realizes itself, gratifies its primary needs, in a fairly satis- 
factory manner, and from the experience forms standards of what it is 
to expect from more elaborate association. Since groups of this sort 
are never obliterated from human experience, but flourish more or 
less under all kinds of institutions, they remain an enduring criterion 
by which the latter are ultimately judged. 



242 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Of course these simpler relations are not uniform for all societies, 
but vary considerably with race, with the general state of civilization 
and with the particular sort of institutions that may prevail. The 
primary groups themselves are subject to improvement and decay, 
and need to be watched and cherished with a very special care. 

Neither is it claimed that, at the best, they realize ideal conditions ; 
only that they approach them more nearly than anything else in 
general experience, and so form the practical basis on which higher 
imaginations are built. They are not always pleasant or righteous, 
but they almost always contain elements from which ideals of pleasant- 
ness and righteousness may be formed. 

The ideal that grows up in familiar association may be said to be 
a part of human nature itself. In its most general form it is that of 
a moral whole or community wherein individual minds are merged 
and the higher capacities of the members find total and adequate 
expression. And it grows up because familiar association fills our 
minds with imaginations of the thought and feeling of other members 
of the group, and of the group as a whole, so that, for many purposes, 
we really make them a part of ourselves and identify our self-feeling 
with them. 

Children and savages do not formulate any such ideal, but they 
have it nevertheless ; they see it ; they see themselves and their fellows 
as an invisible though various " we," and they desire this '' we " 
to be harmonious, happy and successful. How heartily one may 
merge himself in the family and in the fellowships of youth is perhaps 
within the experience of all of us ; and we come to feel that the same 
spirit should extend to our country, our race, our world. " All the 
abuses which are the objects of reform . . . are unconsciously amended 
in the intercourse of friends." 

A congenial family is the immemorial type of moral unity, and source 
of many of the terms — such as brotherhood, kindness and the like — 
which describe it. The members become merged by intimate associa- 
tion into a whole wherein each age and sex participates in its own way. 
Each lives in imaginative contact with the minds of the others, and finds 
in them the dwelling place of his social self, of his affections, ambitions, 
resentments and standards of right and wrong. Without uniformity, 
there is yet unity, a free, pleasant, wholesome, fruitful, common life. 

As to the playground, Mr. Joseph Lee, in an excellent paper on 
" Play as a School of the Citizen," gives the following account of the 
merging of the one in the whole that may be learned from sport. The 
boy, he says, " is deeply participating in a common purpose. The team 
and the plays that it executes are present in a very vivid manner to 
his consciousness. His conscious individuality is more thoroughly 
lost in the sense of membership than perhaps it ever becomes in any 



THE GENERAL NATURE OF SOCIAL LIFE 243 

other way. So that the sheer experience of citizenship in its simplest 
and essential form — of the sharing in a public consciousness, of having 
the social organization present as a controlling ideal in your heart — 
is very intense. . . . 

" Along with the sense of the team as a mechanical instrument, 
unseparated from it in the boy's mind, is the consciousness of it as 
the embodiment of a common purpose. There is in team play a 
very intimate experience of the ways in which such a purpose is built 
up and made effective. You feel, though without analysis, the subtle 
ways in which a strong character breaks out the road ahead and gives 
confidence to the rest to follow ; how the creative power of one ardent 
imagination, bravely sustained, makes possible the putting through of 
the play as he conceives it. You feel to the marrow of your bones 
how each loyal member contributes to the salvation of all the others 
by holding the conception of the whole play so firmly in his mind as 
to enable them to hold it, and to participate in his single-minded de- 
termination to see it carried out. You have intimate experience of 
the ways in which individual members contribute to the team and 
of how the team, in turn, builds up their spiritual nature. . . . 

"And the team is not only an extension of the player's consciousness ; 
it is a part of his personality. His participation has deepened from 
cooperation to membership. Not only is he now a part of the team, 
but the team is a part of him." 

Moral unity, as this illustration implies, admits and rewards strenu- 
ous ambition, but this ambition must either be for the success of the 
group, or at least not inconsistent with that. The fullest self-realiza- 
tion will belong to the one who embraces in a passionate self-feeling 
the aims of the fellowship, and spends his life in fighting for their 
attainment. 

The ideal of moral unity I take to be the mother, as it were, of all 
social ideals. 

It is, then, not my aim to depreciate the self-assertive passions. 
I believe that they are fierce, inextinguishable, indispensable. Com- 
petition and the survival of the fittest are as righteous as kindness 
and cooperation, and not necessarily opposed to them ; an adequate 
view will embrace and harmonize these diverse aspects. The point 
I wish particularly to bring out in this chapter is that the normal self 
is molded in primary groups to be a social self whose ambitions are 
formed by the common thought of the group. 

In their crudest form, such passions as lust, greed, revenge, the pride 
of power and the like are not, distinctively, human nature at all, but 
animal nature, and so far as we rise into the spirit of family or neigh- 
borhood association we control and subordinate them. They are ren- 
dered human only so far as they are brought under the discipline of 



244 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

sympathy, and refined into sentiments, such as love, resentment and 
ambition. And in so far as they are thus humanized they become 
capable of useful function. 

Take the greed of gain, for example, the ancient sin of avarice, the 
old wolf, as Dante says, that gets more prey than all the other beasts. 
The desire of possession is in itself a good thing, a phase of self-realiza- 
tion and a cause of social improvement. It is immoral or greedy only 
when it is without adequate control from sympathy, when the self- 
realized is a narrow self. . . . 

The improvement of society does not call for any essential change 
in human nature, but, chiefly, for a larger and higher application of 
its familiar impulses. . . . 

To break up the ideal of a moral whole into particular ideals is an 
artificial process which every thinker would probably carry out in his 
own way. Perhaps, however, the most salient principles are loyalty, 
lawfulness and freedom. 

In so far as one identifies himself with a whole, loyalty to that whole is 
loyalty to himself ; it is self-realization, something in which one can- 
not fail without losing self-respect. Moreover, this is a larger self, 
leading out into a wider and richer life, and appealing, therefore, to 
enthusiasm and the need of quickening ideals. One is never more 
human, and, as a rule, never happier, than when he is sacrificing his 
narrow and merely private interest to the higher call of the congenial 
group. And without doubt the natural genesis of this sentiment is 
in the intimacy of face-to-face cooperation. It is rather the rule than 
the exception in the family, and grows up among children and youth 
so fast as they learn to think and act to common ends. The team 
feeling described above illustrates it as well as anything. 

Among the ideals inseparable from loyalty are those of truth, service 
and kindness, always conceived as due to the intimate group rather 
than to the world at large. 

Truth or good faith toward other members of a fellowship is, so far 
as I know, a universal human ideal. It does not involve any abstract 
love of veracity, and is quite consistent with deception toward the 
outside world, being essentially " truth of intercourse " or fair dealing 
among intimates. There are few, even among those reckoned lawless, 
who will not keep faith with one who has the gift of getting near to them 
in spirit and making them feel that he is one of themselves. Thus 
Judge Lindsey of Denver has worked a revolution among the neglected 
boys of his city, by no other method than that of entering into the same 
moral whole, becoming part of a " we " with them. He awakens 
their sense of honor, trusts it and is almost never disappointed. 
When he wishes to send a boy to the reform school, the latter promises 
to repair to the institution at a given time, and invariably does so. 



THE GENERAL NATURE OF SOCIAL LIFE 245 

Among tramps a similar sentiment prevails. " It will be found," 
said a young man who had spent the summer among vagrants, " that 
if they are treated square, they will do the same." 

The ideal of service likewise goes with the sense of unity. If there 
is a vital whole, the right aim of individual activity can be no other 
than to serve that whole. And this is not so much a theory as a feeling 
that will exist wherever the whole is felt. It is a poor sort of an in- 
dividual that does not feel the need to devote himself to the larger 
purposes of the group. In our society many feel this need in youth, 
and express it on the playground, who never succeed in realizing it 
among the less intimate relations of business or professional life. 

All mankind acknowledges kindness as the law of right intercourse 
within a social group. By communion minds are fused into a sym- 
pathetic whole, each part of which tends to share the life of all the rest, 
so that kindness is a common joy, and harshness a common pain. It 
is the simplest, most attractive and most diffused of human ideals. 
The golden rule springs directly from human nature. 

Accordingly this ideal has been bound up with association in all past 
times and among all peoples ; it was a matter of course that when men 
acted together in war, industry, devotion, sport or what not, they 
formed a brotherhood or friendship. It is perhaps only in modern 
days, along with the great and sudden differentiation of activities, 
that feeling has failed to keep up, and the idea of cooperation without 
friendship has become familiar. ... 

Every intimate group, like every individual, experiences conflicting 
impulses within itself, and as the individual feels the need of definite 
principles to shape his conduct and give him peace, so the group needs 
law or rule for the same purpose. It is not merely that the over- 
strong or the insubordinate must be restrained, but that all alike may 
have some definite criterion of what the good member ought to do. 
It is a mere fact of psychology that where a social whole exists it may 
be as painful to do wrong as to suffer it, — because one's own spirit 
is divided, — and the common need is for harmony through a law, 
framed in the total interest, which every one can and must obey. 

This need of rules to align differentiated impulse with the good of 
the whole is nowhere more apparent than on the playground. . . . 

No doubt every one remembers how the idea of justice is developed 
in children's games. There is always something to be done in which 
various parts are to be taken, success depending upon their efficient 
distribution. . . . 

Freedom is that phase of social ideal which emphasizes individu- 
ality. The whole to which we belong is made up of diverse energies 
which enkindle one another by friction ; and its vigor requires that 
these have play. Thus the fierce impulses of ambition and pride may 



246 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

be as organic as anything else — provided they are sufficiently hu- 
manized as to their objects — and are to be interfered with only when 
they become destructive or oppressive. . . . 

The idea of the germinal character of primary association is one that 
is fast making its way in education and philanthropy. As we learn 
that man is altogether social and never seen truly except in connection 
with his fellows, we fix our attention more and more on group con- 
ditions as the source, for better or worse, of personal character, and 
come to feel that we must work on the individual through the web of 
relations in which he actually lives. 

The school, for instance, must form a whole with the rest of life, 
using the ideas generated by the latter as the starting point of its train- 
ing. The public opinion and traditions of the scholars must be re- 
spected and made an ally of discipline. Children's associations should 
be fostered and good objects suggested for their activity. . . . 

It is much the same in the country. In every village and township 
in the land, I suppose, there are one or more groups of predatory boys 
and hoydenish girls whose mischief is only the result of ill-directed 
energy. If each of these could receive a little sympathetic attention 
from kindred but wiser spirits, at least half of the crime and vice of 
the next generation would almost certainly be done away with. 

Extracts from Chapters III and IV of Social Organization by C. H. Cooley. 
Courtesy of Charles Scribner's Sons. 



TOPICS FOR STUDY 

1. In what way does the conception of society as an organization 
di£fer from the conception of society as an organism? 

2. Contrast present-day conceptions of the origin of society, of 
the nature of law, of government and of the proper function of punish- 
ment with earlier conceptions. 

3. In what sense may a social group be said to have a mind, a will, 
habits, impulses, morals? 

4. Show that moral questions are ultimately social questions. 

5. LeBon's conception of a crowd. Characteristics of. 

6. Compare the general notion of society suggested by LeBon with 
that suggested by Cooley (vide Social Organization). Are they 
mutually exclusive? 

7. Difference between absolute and social standards of conduct. 
Cooley {Social Organization). 

8. What is meant by the assertion that all real reform must be 
S5ntnpathetic ? Is it possible to say that any people are chiefly given 
over to conscious badness? How does the answer to this question 



THE GENERAL NATURE OF SOCIAL LIFE 247 

bear on social reform? How upon the problem of dealing with the 
bad boy at school ? 

9. If we accept the view that our acts are socially determined, 
what becomes of individual responsibility ? Can you show that it is 
increased rather than diminished ? Why is the consciously bad man 
less harmful socially than the ill doers who beHeve in themselves? 
How can a person be an evil doer who acts with a "good conscience" ? 

10. What does Cooley mean by an "unbalanced doctrine of re- 
sponsibility"? Can you see how it might affect certain school 
problems ? 

11. What conception of punishment do you get from Cooley? 
Work out its implications in school practice. Do you think that he 
would condemn corporal punishment in school? Why? 

12. What are primary ideals ? Show how each one is a more or less 
spontaneous expression of primary group life. What problems pre- 
sent themselves in the extension of primary ideals? 

REFERENCES ON THE NATURE OF SOCIETY 

Baldwin, J. M. The Individual and Society. 1911. 

Cooley, C. H. Human Nature and the Social Order. New York, 
1902. 

Social Organization, A Study of the Larger Mind. New York, 

1909. 

GiDDiNGS, F. H. Principles of Sociology. New York, 3d ed., 1909. 

Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan, or the Matter, Form, and Power of a 

Commonwealth. 

Le Bon, Gustave. The Crowd, A Study of the Popular Mind. 

Ross, E. A. Social Psychology. New York, 1908. 

Rousseau, J. J. The Social Contract. 

Spencer, Herbert. Principles of Sociology. 3 v. 

Tarde, Gabriel. Social Laws, translated by H. C. Warren. New 
York, 1899. 

Ward, L. F. Dynamic Sociology. 2 v. New York, 1897. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CHILDREN 

Spontaneous Social Organizations among Children 

In the preceding section the general nature of society as an organi- 
zation was discussed. It was seen that this organization is spontane- 
ous, that it is not subversive but rather conducive to individuaUty, 
and that its best examples are the primary groups, the nurseries of 
human nature and the basis of most of our ideals of that conduct 
which is regarded as human, and, hence, right. 

Among the various primary groups which might be mentioned, the 
school stands out as having many if not all the necessary character- 
istics. Preliminary, however, to a study of the social nature of the 
school group it will be well to note some of the tendencies of children 
of a certain age to spontaneously develop a group or community life. 
These tendencies appear particularly in their group games, in the 
gangs of street urchins and in the various clubs which boys especially 
tend to form. Child life, always social, tends, when a certain age is 
reached, to seek expression in some more or less temporary corporate 
association. A study of these spontaneous social tendencies throws 
important light upon the nature of the corporate life which develops 
quite as spontaneously in the school. 

As source material, extracts from Johnson's valuable study, Rudi- 
mentary Society among Boys, are here reprinted. The object of the 
author appears to have been to show how primitive usages with refer- 
ence to private property, law-making judicial procedure and money 
are strikingly paralleled in the spontaneous activities of modern boys. 
Our interest in the facts recorded may be slightly different without in 
any way distorting them. The activities here recorded were those 
of a true " primary group." There was " intimate face-to-face asso- 
ciation and cooperation," and the unity displayed was clearly not 
always " one of mere harmony and love." 

248 



THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CHILDREN 249 

Although this boy society developed upon a school farm, its deter- 
mining features may be said to have been formed independently of 
the school life. It was just such a society as tends to develop quite of 
its own accord wherever children of a certain age are thrown together 
for any length of time and active interests are stimulated. The 
McDonogh farm afforded an arena for a wide range of activity. 
On the basis of this opportunity the boys developed a rudimentary 
social organization within which conflicting interests were adjusted 
and a crude justice administered. It affords an admirable illustra- 
tion of certain of the "primary ideals" specified by Cooley, — for 
instance, these of lawfulness, of truth, of freedom and of natural right. 

We are introduced through this paper to a wide and important 
field for inductive study; namely, the institutional activities of chil- 
dren. A thorough understanding of these activities in their general 
phases should throw much light upon the nature of the corporate life 
of the school, as one of their particular manifestations. Already, 
much valuable material has been collected, but much remains to be 
done. Boys left entirely to themselves form cliques, or gangs, which 
possess, even though on a low plane, the raw material for a higher social 
development. The social organization of the McDonogh School is 
not presented as in any sense ideal. The laws permitted the develop- 
ment of grave social abuses ; the justice that was administered was 
often crude. But the group that lived there did show a dawning sense 
of lawfulness and of justice; so do all the spontaneous associations 
of children. The recognition of this tendency has led to many at- 
tempts on the part of adults to utilize for educative ends the instinc- 
tive social activities of boys and girls. The boys' club is a redeemed 
gang. It is a corporate existence in which there is just enough con- 
tact with a wise, mature mind to make it a positive character-forming 
agency. The boy scout movement rests upon the same basis and, for 
the same reasons, has great possibilities for character development. 
Another interesting illustration is furnished by the organization of 
the Toledo newsboys, described by Gunckel in Boyville. 

All in all, the remarkable results attained by skilled workers in turn- 
ing to some good the corporate tendencies of boys mark them as most 
important aspects of educational work, work which is thus far scarcely 
recognized by the agencies of public instruction, 



250 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Rudimentary Society among Boys 

At the top of one of the low, fertile hills that cover much of the 
country to the north and west of Baltimore, stands the McDonogh 
School, Around it stretch the eight hundred acres of the school 
farm. . . . 

Over these teeming eight hundred acres the " McDonogh boys " 
roam at will, each according to his ability striving to become a mighty 
hunter in the earth. During the first spring after the opening of the 
school, the boys found the woods abounding with birds' eggs and 
squirrels, which they might have for the trouble of taking. During 
the autumn they gathered chestnuts and walnuts and stored them 
away to be cracked and eaten before the big fire in the schoolroom. 
Whether in spring or in autumn, all who went to the labor of searching 
were rewarded with an abundance. When the frost had killed the 
green shoots and troubled the rabbits to get a living, every boy that 
chose to do so set traps in the swamps and ditches, and baited them 
with sweet-smelling apples, or more pungent and effective onions. 

The ground was then regarded as the property of the community, 
and while, like the ancient Teutonic villager, each " McDonogh boy " 
took pains to exclude strangers from the Mark, each regarded himself 
with the rest as a joint owner of the harvest of nuts, and all had equal 
rights of hunting and trapping in the waste. As in the precursors of 
those Aryan villages of the East, recently studied by Phear, "land was 
not conceived of as property in the modern sense, or as belonging to 
any individual." The whole was common to them all, and every boy 
had a right to a portion of the fruits of the ground. . . . 

Among the " McDonogh boys," as among many savage societies, 
the beginning of property in land is seen as " the collective ownership 
of the soil by groups of persons." I had almost continued the quota- 
tion to make it include the words, " groups believing or assuming that 
they are " united in blood relationship. But while such a statement 
here would be untrue, the feeling of union among the " McDonogh 
boys " is of a very striking intensity. They become greatly indignant, 
and even have a sense of wrong done them when they discover a young- 
ster from the neighborhood trapping game upon " our farm." This 
sentiment they have sometimes manifested in attempts to prevent the 
children of the men employed on the farm from gathering eggs in the 
woods ; and the schoolboys regard their few competitors in hunting 
with an aversion often put into words and sometimes into acts. . . . 

This feeling of brotherhood is so deep and lasting that it might be 
said of the " new boy," on his admission into the McDonogh School, 
" in sacra transiit.'" The feeling of the boys is well shown in their 
conception of their rights to the property of the school, many of them 



THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CfflLDREN 251 

regarding themselves as the legatees of John McDonogh, the philan- 
thropist, who gave his fortune to Baltimore in trust for the education of 
poor boys. He iills the niche once occupied in the minds of their 
Aryan progenitors by the common ancestor, from whom all the mem- 
bers of the primitive community thought themselves to have sprung. 
For the primitive fiction of common descent they have substituted the 
real bond of school fellowship and the pretended bond of succession. 
As they sometimes express it, " McDonogh left his property to us," 
and the idea that any other than " McDonogh boys " have any rights 
over the property, they do not easily accept. This feeling is clearly dis- 
played in their attitude toward one of the rules of the school. They are 
not permitted to pluck the fruit in the orchards, and some of them are 
honestly unable to see the justice of such a regulation. The fact that 
the fruit is given to them after it is gathered does not at all satisfy 
them. Conscientious boys have often said in my hearing that, as 
they owned the fruit, no one had a right to prevent them from pulling 
it. They are, however, debarred from carrying this idea into practice, 
and the truth has often been pointed out to them ; so this notion is not 
universal among them. But as no one has interfered to dispel their 
belief that they have property in the nuts, eggs and squirrels, they have 
made this a cardinal doctrine of their politics. 

With this feeling of ownership constantly in mind, the boys that 
entered the school at its opening went peering through the high grass 
of the meadows in search of bobolinks' eggs ; and climbed the rough 
pin oaks to the nests of the hawks. The first score of urchins were able 
to get as much as they desired from the fields and woods ; but when the 
school grew in numbers, and fifty adventurers had boxes of bran to be 
filled with zoological specimens, and bins each holding bushels to be 
stored with walnuts, the demand for these treasures began to exceed 
the supply. Then competition set in and disputes arose, out of which, 
with the aid of an apparent instinct for politics, the boys were able to 
bring custom and law, and a system of property which was odd and 
unexpected, yet orderly and intelligible. . . . 

To understand their position in the line of progress, we must first 
see how they now gather the crop, and how they formerly harvested it. 
Just after midnight some morning early in October, when the first 
frosts of the season have loosened the grasp of the nuts upon the limbs, 
parties of two or three boys might be seen (if any one were sufl&ciently 
interested to leave his bed at such an untimely hour) rushing at full 
speed over the wet fields. When the swiftest party has reached a 
walnut tree, one of the number climbs up rapidly, shakes off half a 
bushel of nuts and scrambles down again. Then off the boys go to the 
next tree, where the process is repeated unless the tree is occupied by 
other boys doing likewise. This activity continues during play hours 



252 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

until all the walnut trees on the place have been appropriated. Nut 
hunters coming to the tree after the first party has been there and wish- 
ing to shake the tree further are required by custom to pile up all the 
nuts that lie under the tree. Until this is done, the unwritten law does 
not permit their shaking any more nuts upon the ground. Any one 
that violated this provision and shook nuts from a tree before piling 
up those beneath, would be universally regarded as dishonest, and every 
boy's hand would be against him. To collect all these nuts into a pile 
requires no small labor, and rather than undergo this the second party 
will usually go off Ln search of another tree. Consequently the partial 
shaking commonly enables the boy that first climbs a tree to get pos- 
session of all its fruit. 

A certain justice underlies this custom. Labor has been expended in 
the first shaking. If another comes and shakes more nuts to the 
ground before picking up those already there, the fruit of the first 
boy's labor will be mixed up with that of the second, and thus the first 
owner will lose some of his work. The moral sense of the community 
agrees that no part of the labor shall be lost to him that performs it, 
and to prevent such a result the present regulation seems effectual. In 
what notions, ethical or other, this practice of seizing trees was begun, 
we cannot now discover ; but all analogies indicate that the justice of 
the matter was not the sole consideration. But if it is hard to discover 
the origin of this custom in the moral nature of the boys, we may yet 
see how it illustrates their views of property. Inasmuch as a tree is the 
property of a boy and his partners only so long as his nuts remain un- 
piled on the ground, and since the trees may be shaken again by any 
boy who chooses to pile up the nuts, it is evident that in the eyes of 
the boys the trees belong to all of them. The simple expedient for 
redistributing the trees at intervals of a year is to cause all titles to 
expire at the end of the harvest. A boy's right to a tree lasts no 
longer than a single autumn. If in all that time he does not remove 
his crop, and if no one else piles up the nuts and gathers the rest of 
the yield, still his right expires by limitation ; and at the opening of 
the next season the first comer has a right to establish a title for himself. 

It may be said that permitting each boy to seize trees as he can is 
hardly to be called an equitable method of redistribution, but, as I 
desire to establish only the fact of redistribution, this is not a valid 
objection. It is, however, true that efforts have been made looking 
toward a fair division. The keen competition for walnuts led many 
boys to shake trees in the middle of September, and thus to acquire a 
title to them long before the fruit was ripe. When baseball was still 
the main idea of the majority, perhaps a fortnight before the first 
frost (everywhere recognized as marking the ripening of the crop), the 
greediest or the most enterprising boys would set out to seize and shake 



THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CHILDREN 253 

as many trees as possible. Having no competitors, they would be able 
in a few days to take possession of a whole crop of nuts. To alleviate 
this evil, a day in October was fixed as the date of the beginning of 
harvest. An assembly of the boys, where all may take part, is the body 
which determined and still determines the opening of the season. The 
meaning of this public act is evident. It was felt that the few had 
seized what the many owned, and to prevent the recurrence of this 
robbery, it was made unlawful to gather any part of the crop before all 
knew it was ripe. By fixing a day when the harvest should begin, the 
boys did what they could towards equalizing the shares of each. They 
at least put all upon the same footing as regards the time of gathermg, 
and they made each boy know when he must enter upon the competi- 
tion. Though not all the starters could have the inside track, all got 
away together. 

While the community thus does what it can to give each member a 
fair chance, no effort has been made to equalize the industry of the 
competitors. The hardest workers still gather the biggest crop. The 
day for the opening of harvest is reckoned to begin at midnight, and 
the boys that are most in earnest stay awake till twelve, and then, 
issuing from their beds into the chilly moonlight of the October fields, 
they seize such trees as they desire. 

The same feeling of common ownership of the woodland and the 
same attempt at redistribution, which appear in the custom of gather- 
ing the walnut crop, are apparent in the usages of the school on the 
subjects of egg gathering and squirrel hunting. As eggs grew scarce 
and the boys grew more numerous, those who most desired the eggs 
worked hardest to get them, climbing higher trees and wading through 
muddier swamps. As the more industrious boys saw the birds buQd- 
ing nests over their heads, what was more natural than a desire to 
possess them before the laying began, and thus to acquire a title to the 
eggs ? A boy who had spent hours in a weary search and had at last 
found a nest, felt that his labor gave him the right to it. Accordingly 
some boys began to invent ways of marking the trees in which they had 
found nests, and to claim ownership, not of the eggs, which were not 
then laid, but of the tree in which they knew the eggs would soon be 
brought forth. Commonly when a boy found a nest, he laid a dead 
limb against the trunk as a warning to others that the tree had become 
his, and was no longer common property, to be taken by any one pass- 
ing by. Rights thus acquired were not always respected by the cove- 
tous, and eggs were so often taken from marked nests as to lead to an 
intolerable condition of quarreling and fighting. The commimity 
then interfered to regulate the use of the Mark. After much angry 
discussion the assembly adopted the plan of nailing upon the trees a 
ticket bearing the finder's name and the date of the discovery. This 



254 



SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 



ticket gave to the boy whose name it bore a right of property during 
the rest of that year to all the nests that might be made in that tree 
and to all their contents. On the last day of December all titles were 
to lapse, to be renewed only by the new ticket. 

Before the first bluebird has laid her pale azure eggs in the leafless 
orchards, the egg hunters, in conformity with this statute, provide 
themselves with strips of paper bearing their name and the date. 
These tickets and some tacks they take with them whenever they go 
into the woods. Where a hollow limb presages the birth of a brood 
of squirrels, one of these labels is nailed upon the trunk beneath, and 
another is placed under every crow's nest building in the branches. 
During the year no other honest boy will take eggs or squirrels from a 
tree thus appropriated, and [the first discoverers] may go at leisure 
and collect the new-laid specimens for their cabinets or the weak-eyed 
pets for their pockets. 

When the explorations of the boys revealed the presence of nuts, 
eggs and squirrels, numbers of rabbits were also discovered. At- 
tempts were at once made upon the fives of these animals, for the pur- 
pose of adding a delicacy to the commonplace round of boarding school 
fare. Every boy that chose to do so made traps and set them at such 
spots as struck his fancy, for at the start the equal rights of all to the 
woods and game were fully recognized. But ownership in severalty 
was soon established on the ruins of the system of common property. 

Clearly to understand this economic revolution, we must consider 
it historically. The rabbit-trapping season begins about the middle of 
October and ends early in December. Its opening depends upon the 
weather, and not, like the walnut harvest, upon the legislation of the 
boys. If there is an early autumn, the rabbits may be induced by the 
scarcity of food to enter the traps sooner than if the warm weather 
continues till late. 

In the first autumn after the opening of the school, each boy that 
chose to do so made a box of planks, fitted one end with a door that 
would fall at the touch of a trigger, and having found a promising spot, 
there set his trap. The hungry rabbits were tempted with fragrant 
apples and appetizing onions, and a few victims were enticed within 
the fatal door. At that time no boy set more than half a dozen traps, 
and almost the whole school enjoyed the delightful anticipation of 
having rabbits for breakfast on some future morning. 

But the spots where the rabbits can be caught on eight hundred 
acres are comparatively few, and hence the closeness of the traps inter- 
fered with the amount of the catch. It is a habit with rabbits to move 
about in well-marked paths, and the boys usually set their traps in 
these places. Generally a rabbit will enter the first trap in his path, 
and boys often complained that their traps were rendered useless by 



THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CHILDREN 255 

the proximity of others. After a year or two of this unsatisfactory 
state of affairs, a large boy, who had set his traps rather earher than 
the rest, began dropping heavy stones upon all traps set closer to his 
own than he thought desirable. In such a society as we are studying, 
a hard-fisted fellow of fifteen is a great personage, and has much the 
same influence as a great warrior in a primitive village. The example 
of this boy magnate was imitated by all who dared ; and by common 
consent, or perhaps by common submission, a limited distance between 
traps was agreed on. ... 

Boy Legislation. — The legislation of the boys has been already re- 
ferred to in speaking of the growth of ideas of property in nests and 
trees. We have seen how the school fellows fixed the date of the 
walnut harvest, and determined that nests should not be taken from 
trees marked with a ticket. No account, however, was given of the 
legislative body and its procedure. The former resembles, in the ex- 
tent of its powers, the primitive assembly, or village council. Its 
origin, however, was entirely independent and not the result of any 
imitation. The boys have never the faintest notion that they are 
reproducing one of the most ancient institutions. They do what seems 
good in their own eyes, with no reference to the outside world, and with 
no intention of imitating anything belonging there. . . . Each of the 
assemblies is democratic and primary ; each legislates ; as will presently 
appear, each judges ; each is guided by an unwritten law ; each exerts 
itself to make as nearly as possible a fair division of the communal 
property ; each fixes the date of the opening of harvest. The infor- 
mality of the Russian Assembly is naturally exceeded amongst the 
schoolboys. In the Russian body, every man is so independent that 
the Village Elder has only the semblance of a presiding ofiicer's author- 
ity, without the power even to call a member to order. At McDonogh 
no president is known. Whoever is most influential takes the lead in 
dispatching the business of the moment. It is not, however, neces- 
sary to break the wind of our comparison by driving it too far ; all 
that is desired is to point out the general similarity of the Assembly at 
McDonogh to a typical village council. 

The entire informality of the proceedings of the boys and the princi- 
ples that underHe their actions are well brought out in the accounts 
they have given me of the passage of their more important laws. When 
attempts were first made at exclusive ownership of trees containing 
birds' nests and squirrels' dens, the community took notice of the 
matter. Some boys had the habit of marking a tree by laying a piece 
of wood at the foot, and others by writing their names upon a piece of 
paper and fastening this upon the bark. The conservative boys desired 
that no system of marking should be permitted. The debate on the 
question of what should be done was not held on a fixed day, or in a 



256 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

settled place, or even in the presence of the whole body. School work 
and play were too pressing for all to gather at once. On the contrary, 
the subject was talked over wherever several boys came together. 
Traditions vary as to whether a meeting of all the boys was held to 
make the final test of a vote ; and whether the time of voting was ex- 
tended over a whole day or even several days. But whatever may have 
been the details, the essential facts are clearly enough described in all 
the accounts. 

After much debate, three resolutions respectively embodying the 
views of the three parties were written out and pasted upon the wall of 
the schoolroom. The vote was then taken, and each boy signed his 
name beneath the proposition that he favored, where it was in full 
view of every one. Upon counting the signatures, a majority was found 
to be for permitting the placing of tickets upon trees as evidence that 
they were claimed by individuals. This " rule " (which is the term the 
boys apply to their enactments) immediately went into effect, and has 
ever since been a law. The decision was by most voices as it would have 
been at Washington or Westminster. In that lies the cardinal fact. 
Whether by imitation or by instinct, the boys hit upon the principle 
that hinges all " government by discussion." 

Some years after the passage of the law providing for the ticketing 
of trees as a means of taking possession, it was found that labels tacked 
upon the trunks occasionally fell to the ground ; whereupon a passer-by, 
although he might see the label l5n.ng at his feet, would take possession 
of the eggs that it was intended to protect. A strict adherence to the 
letter of the law is counted as righteousness among primitive peoples, 
and our boys are yet in the savage state of morality. In order to im- 
prove the security of property, a meeting was held at which, I under- 
stand, but few boys were present. It was agreed by them without any 
of the formality of a written vote, that it would thereafter be unlawful 
to distm-b any nest where the label intended to make it could be seen 
lying upon the ground. After this assembly broke up, the consent of 
a sufficient number of other boys, who had been absent, was ob- 
tained by going about and asking them to agree to the " new rule." 
The informality of the passage of this statute seems to have caused no 
remark, and it is still part of the law. Upon its application turned an 
interesting cause to be hereafter described. 

Some incidents seem to point to the downfall of the popular system , 
of lawmaking. The fact that a small number of boys have sometimes 
agreed upon a " rule," and afterwards obtained the consent of a suffi- 
cient number of the rest to put it into operation, is a constant temptation 
to the stronger and more influential boys to propose laws and declare 
them adopted without the consent of a majority. The land monopo- 
lists take the lead in this revolutionary measure, and their course is 



THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CHILDREN 257 

skillfully chosen. They are careful to make such regulations as meet 
with general approval. A small body of large boys may easily avoid a 
collision with the others and yet impose laws without the formality of 
consulting the rest. The next and easy step is to an oligarchical gov- 
ernment. There are indications that before many years it will be taken, 
and that equality of political rights will share the fate of the equality of 
property. 

Judicial Procedure. — Inquiries into the customs of the " McDonogh 
boys " cannot be carried far before one is struck with the peace and good 
order generally prevalent in the community. Fights between angry 
boys do sometimes occur, to be sure, but the belief of the authorities 
of the school is that the number of these combats has steadily decreased 
with the lengthening life of the institution. Little fellows who have 
not lived at the school long enough to have become imbued with the 
general feeling often tug and strike impotently at each other ; but the 
older boys so seldom ask the decision of the fist that a fight between 
two of them is an event never to be forgotten, which tradition hands 
down with greater embellishment at each succeeding year. When a 
combat does begin, it rarely happens now that the matter at issue is 
connected in any way with rights of property. Insults and bullying 
may lead to fights, but disputes over nests or trees usually come to a 
peaceable end. Yet this result has not been reached by active efforts 
on the part of the principal and his assistants to prevent fighting, or 
even greatly to discourage it. No boy has ever been punished because 
he was the bearer of a pair of blackened eyes ; and further than to pre- 
vent exhibitions of violence in their immediate presence, the teachers 
have not interfered with any arrangement for settling quarrels that 
might be made by pupils. In spite of the objections that may be 
offered to this official apathy by the sentimental reader, a close ap- 
proach has been made among the members of a quite heterogeneous 
body to the desirable state of peace and good will. No control having 
been exercised by the faculty, the boys themselves have regulated the 
matter. 

The custom of the school from the earliest days has been, when a fight 
is in progress, to form a ring of excited and vociferous spectators around 
the enraged pair, and to regard the struggle as a gladiatorial exhibition 
for the entertainment of the throng. The fighters, thus made the 
center of the public interest, are usually impelled by self-respect to 
desperate efforts; but where this is not so, the lookers-on, feeling 
themselves defrauded of a proper gratification, will often insist upon a 
continuance of the struggle until one or the other of the combatants is 
thoroughly beaten. Every boy, therefore, feels he must beware of 
entrance to a fight, and all other possible measures are usually tried 
before an appeal is made to force. 



258 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

I should give a very incorrect impression, however, if I permitted it 
to be thought that the McDonogh boys never yield to ill-temper. As 
will presently appear, they are in possession of an effective means for 
settling quarrels over the title to property, but the punishment of 
offenders is left to the injured person and his friends. When, in the 
autumn of 1883, a boy from the neighborhood was detected in robbing 
rabbit traps, the owners of the game summarily and successively gave 
him a beating, without the least formality or authorization. A case 
has also come to my knowledge where a debtor, who had made an 
assignment of his property which proved insufficient to meet all de- 
mands, was trounced very soimdly by an angry creditor. Another 
debtor had exhausted the patience of his creditors by unfulfilled prom- 
ises to pay, and was plainly told by them at last that unless his debts 
were liquidated within two weeks, he must fight them all in succession. 

While such deeds of violence stand out in the reader's mind, in the 
daily life of the boys they bear the same insignificant ratio to the quiet 
whole that the murders held up to daily horror in the press bear to the 
humdrum life of the world. This peaceful condition appears in a more 
striking light when one considers the great number of questions for 
dispute certain to arise in the daily life of the " McDonogh boys." 
He often hears discussions over the rights of the rabbit trappers to the 
possession of the land ; he can hardly fail to weigh the arguments by 
which their practice is attacked and defended ; and he is sure to take 
sides either for or against them. The perplexing questions of the ad- 
vantages and disadvantages of a system of individual land holding are 
not the only difficulties with which his sympathies and his reason have 
to deal ; for the working of the customs of the school frequently forces 
upon his notice intricate problems of right and usage. It is apparent 
that in the operation of the somewhat complicated system of property 
heretofore described, it is impossible to avoid disputes, and other causes 
of contention are not wanting. . . . 

Disputes arising from their pecuUar customs of ownership are settled 
by boys assembUng at the place where the controversy is carried on. 
Most commonly this is in the play room, where they can be free from 
observation. When Black and Landreth found the nest of a dove in 
the pines, seeing no mark of prior owners upon the tree, they took the 
eggs and brought them to the house. As they sat in the play room with 
needles and straws, preparing the eggs for their cabinet, Delphey over- 
heard their talk, and questioned them about the spot where the nest 
was discovered. He soon convinced himself that the nest was one 
that he had found but a few days before, and on which he had placed 
the mark of himself and his partners. When he was satisfied on that 
point, he at once laid claim to the eggs. Landreth and Black angrily 
refused to give them up, and they were soon hot in dispute. Under 



THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CHILDREN 259 

the law made for such cases the question of ownership is a nice one. 
It is granted on both sides that if Delphey, the first finder, is to retain 
a good title, his label must either remain upon the trunk of the tree, or 
else in sight upon the ground beneath, where it has fallen by accident. 
If neither alternative is complied with, any subsequent finder may 
either take the nest or mark the tree with his own label. 

By this time a knot of a dozen boys, who had been idhng about, had 
formed around Delphey, listening intently. In a few moments he called 
Duvall, his partner, for confirmation, and with the utmost particular- 
ity related the circumstances in which he had found the nest. Del- 
phey told of the route they took over the stream, through the swamp, 
and up the hill ; and mentioned the boys they met on the way, whom 
he compelled to corroborate his assertions. By the time Duvall takes 
up the account, the ring surrounding them has become larger ; perhaps 
twenty boys have gathered, and they listen with strained attention. 
He proceeds to describe the tree in which the nest was placed, and 
dwells with convincing minuteness upon its exact situation, upon the 
color of the bark, the broken limb, the knot halfway up the trunk, 
and the nailing of the label upon it. To all his statements it may be 
that his adversaries, Landreth and Black, assent, only interjecting 
at intervals the words : "But there wasn't any mark on the tree when 
we were there." The declarations of either party are addressed as 
much to the throng around as to their opponents, and it is evident, in 
the heightened color of the bystanders, in their sparkling eyes, and in 
their tense muscles, that to them the question is of absorbing interest. 
Now that the argument of the plaintiffs has been heard in full, there 
can be no doubt that they marked the nest as they declare ; and yet 
there is nothing to indicatethat the defendants have any intention of 
restoring the property. 

Seeing the angry looks and threatening gestures of all the group, 
one who does not know the school may judge that blows will follow 
next, and that a general conflict is about to ensue between the partisans 
of the claimants. Nothing could be farther from the truth. What has 
occurred is but the ordinary proceeding of a very primitive court of 
justice. Delphey knows that Black's arms are strong, his fists hard, 
and his blows rapid. Landreth has no desire to risk the destruction of 
his treasure in a struggle where, even if he retains it, he is sure to do so 
at the cost of bruises and blood. As he rises angrily from his seat and 
pushes through the crowd, he is not seeking space in which to fight, but 
a witness to establish his title. This body of spectators, who seem 
intent upon hearing the whole matter and sifting it to the bottom, is — 
if the name will serve — the folkmote, the assembly of the people, 
met to see justice done according to law. Each boy standing in the 
ring around the orators knows that to-morrow he may be there to 



26o SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

maintain his rights before a similar body, in which the plaintiff and 
the defendant of to-day will alike have a voice to decide upon his 
claims. He has a feeling that a decision contrary to established cus- 
tom, however it may accord with his momentary sympathies, will be 
treated as a precedent to overthrow his most cherished interests, and 
to prevent the operation of rules upon which he has confidently counted 
in every venture in which he is engaged. Every boy there is deter- 
mined upon the entire preservation of the system of law upon which he 
has based all his hopes of filling his egg cabinet. 

We have turned aside a moment from following the actions of the 
htigants. The clamor of voices rose louder as Landreth moved off, 
but it subsided somewhat as he reappeared, accompanied by Miller, 
on whose testimony he relied. The newcomer rapidly explained to those 
around him that he, too, had seen the nest on the day Landreth took 
it ; he had examined the tree, and Delphey's mark was not upon it ; 
he had searched the ground beneath, and could not find the label there ; 
he would himself have carried off the find, but for the fact that he saw 
only a single egg, and thought it better to put his own claim mark upon 
the trunk, and wait till more eggs were laid ; when he had intended to 
return and get them. It had happened, however, that during his 
previous search for nests he had, in marking other discoveries, used up 
all of his labels that he had brought with him, and he had therefore 
been unable to appropriate the tree at the time. It was after he had 
gone away, and before he could return with a label, that Landreth had 
found the nest and possessed himself of its contents, which had mean- 
while been increased to two eggs by the industrious bird. 

This evidence ended the trial. Loud cries arose from all parts of 
the throng. " It's Doggie's nest. It wasn't marked when he found 
it," said one member of the tumultuous court. " Your mark was 
blown away, Ruffie," exclaimed another. " It's Doggie's nest." No 
opposition of importance was made, and, the decision being rendered, 
Delphey and his partner saw their case was lost and slowly walked 
away. Landreth and Black, who retained the eggs, returned to their 
work of blowing them with straws. The making of the claim, the 
trial and the decision occupied less than half an hour. If not sure, this 
justice is at least swift. 

A word may here be given to the ethical questions brought up by 
this decision. It was admitted by all parties that two boys had found 
the nest before Landreth and Black had seen it. Landreth's claims in 
the view of equity would have to yield to Delphey's, who not only 
found the nest but marked it, and who, in so far as prior discovery gives 
any rights, clearly had them all. Landreth's title rested upon a 
purely technical ground. Yet, with a characteristic analogy to primi- 
tive habits of thought, it was considered that the perfect title was 



THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CfflLDREN 261 

obtained by a literal fulfillment of the words of the law, by an exact 
compliance with its minutest provisions. The law provided that no one 
should take a nest when the mark was on the trunk beneath, or in sight 
upon the ground. As it had been proved by Miller's testimony that Lan- 
dreth could not have seen Delphey's label, Delphey's rights vanished. 

There can be Httle doubt that the negligent driving of a tack was 
all that made Landreth the better owner than Delphey, and that 
Landreth was perfectly aware of this fact. When the suitors and judges 
were questioned as to why such a decision was given, the only reply to 
be obtained was, '' That's the rule." Like Shylock, Landreth might 
have said : " I stand here for law," and his determination was to 
maintain to the full every legal privilege. The idea that the law might 
give advantages, the use of which moraUty could not sanction, is so 
late of development in the legal history of mankind that we must 
not regard the absence of such a conception among these boys as an 
indication of an abnormally low state of moral culture. To look for 
exalted views of right and wrong among them would be to expect them 
to reverse the usual processes of mental progress. 

I have treated this incident at such length because of its typical 
character, and of its likeness to primitive usage. If it was an event 
of rare occurrence, its significance would be less ; but it is, in fact, an 
example of what occurs almost daily at McDonogh. The crowd of 
boys assembled about the contestants, whose verdict decides the 
controversy, is, in many respects, the counterpart of a primitive as- 
sembly of the people on the folkmote. Every boy has the right to 
express an opinion and every boy present exercises his privilege, though 
personal prowess and great experience in matters of law have their 
full share of influence on the minds of the judges. The primitive idea 
that dispensing justice is a public trust, which the community itself 
must fulfill towards its members, is embodied in this usage of the 
*' McDonogh boys." The judges are not arbitrators chosen by the 
disputants, nor are they public functionaries, whose sole business is to 
preside over the courts, but the whole body of the population declares 
by word of mouth the right and wrong of the matter. This tumul- 
tuous body of schoolfellows, giving decisions in quarrels and deter- 
mining questions of custom, reproduces, with remarkable fidelity, the 
essential character of the primitive Assembly. 

John Johnson, Johns Hopkins University Studies in History and Political Science, 
Second Series, No. XI. 

TOPICS FOR STUDY AND DISCUSSION 

I. Make a first-hand study of a boy's gang: as to its personnel, its 
leader, its objects, its moral influence on its members and on others, etc. 



262 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

2. The general moral influence of the gang. Pufifer, Buck, Chapter 
II. 

3. To what extent can the club take the place of the gang ? Buck^ 
etc. 

4. How organize a boy's club? Buck. 

5. Let the student analyze the industrial, social and moral situa- 
tion in a community well known to himself, and describe how he 
might organize a boys' club and what it might accomplish. 

6. To what extent can the boys' clubs organized by adults really 
enlist the hearty support of boys, really utilize their group-forming 
instincts ? 

7. The type of personality required by the club adviser. 

8. The origin, social significance and probable future of the boy- 
scout movement. 

9. What "primary ideals" seem to be fostered by the gang? 
Puffer, etc. 

10. How do the primary ideals developed by the club dififer from 
those of the gang? 

11. Ways in which the institutionalized forces of education could 
strengthen their work by taking into account the corporate or group- 
forming tendencies of youth. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Addams, Jane. The Spirit of Youth and the City Streets. 

Beard, A. E. S. "Baden-Powell boy scouts," World To-day, 19: 
741-743, July, 1910. Good for general reference; concise and 
brief. 

Blumfield, R. D. "Boy scouts," Om//oo^, 95:617-629, July, 1910. 

Brown, L. E. The Ideal Boys' Club, Albany, New York. The author. 

Brown, T. J. "The gang instinct in boys," Association Outlook, 9: 
No. 8. 

Buck, Winifred. Boys' Self-governing Clubs, 1906. The best ex- 
tended account of the practical working of boys' clubs. 

CuLiN, S. "Street games of Brooklyn," Jour. Am. Folk-Lore, 4 : 221- 

237- 
Durban, W. "The boy scouts and boys' brigades," Homiletic 

Review, 60 : 375, November, 1910. 

Ellis, Havelock. The Criminal, 1900. 

FoRBRUSH, W. B, The Boy Problem, 1907. • 



THE SPONTANEOUS SOCIAL LIFE OF CHILDREN 263 

GuLiCK, L. H. "Psychological, pedagogical and religious aspects of 
group games," Fed. S., 6 : 134. 

GuNCKEL, John E. Boyville, 1905. The work of the newsboys' 
association of Toledo. A suggestive study of the character-form- 
ing power of corporate life. 

Hartson, L. D. "The psychology of the club," Fed. S., 18:353. 

Johnson, John. "Rudimentary society among boys," Johns Hop- 
kins University Studies, Second Series, No. XI. Selections from, 
reprinted herewith. 

LiNDSEY, Ben. B. "The gang and juvenile crime," Work with Boys, 

4:43- 
McCoRMACK, William. "Results in a boys' club," Work with Boys, 

6: 171-177. 

O'Shea, M. V. Social Development and Education, pp. 302-319. 

Powell. The Knights of the Holy Grail : A solution of the boy problem. 

Potter, J. Adams. "Boys' gangs," Pedagogical Seminary, 12:175- 
212. A valuable, well-known inductive study. 

Riis, Jacob. The Children of the Poor, Chapter XIII. 

Rogers, J. E. "The theory of the boys' clubs," Ed., 30: 40. Pur- 
pose to supervise pleasures, to provide proper environment, 
positive instruction and training. 

Russell, Charles E. S., and Rigby, Lilian. Working Lads' Clubs. 
A complete description of the Enghsh Clubs. 

Seaton, E. T. "Organized boyhood," Success, December, 1910. 

Sheldon, H. D. "Institutional activities of American children," 
Am. J. Psych., 1899, 9:425-448. 

Sykes, M. "Let's play lndda,n," Everybody's, 23:473-483, October, 
1910. 

White, Wm. Allen. The Court of Boyville. The social evolution 
of the boy based on the culture-epoch hypothesis. 

Woods, Robert A. The City Wilderness. 

Work with Boys, Yol. I (1900), — , contains many interesting papers 
not herein mentioned, dealing with boys' clubs. 



CHAPTER XV 

THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 

The Social Life of the School and Social Education 

In a preceding section we studied " primary groups," one of the 
fundamental manifestations of social life. We noted that " primary 
groups " develop with entire spontaneity in childhood and youth. 
As has been suggested the school, whatever its character or its ideals, 
has a corporate or group life, of some sort, is in a word a primary group 
with all the possibilities for shaping or misshaping character, which 
go therewith. This corporate life is, in fact, an inevitable outcome 
of the bringing together of young people for the purpose of study and 
training. It might be called a by-product of regular school activity, 
but it is an unavoidable by-product, and all who are concerned with 
education must reckon with it. Indeed, the very fact that some sort 
of corporate life tends to develop in the school has brought educators 
to a recognition of the general need that children be trained along so- 
cial as well as along intellectual lines. 

Well-developed notions of the significant social side of school work 
are only beginning to make themselves felt. First there was the 
spontaneous uncontrolled social life of the school. Then there was a 
growing recognition of the necessity of the school's supervising and 
directing these social tendencies that they might not interfere with 
the regular and proper work of education, and last of all the conviction 
has gradually shaped itself that not merely must this social life be 
controlled, but also that it should be a part of the function of public 
education to develop it, that the educational ideal of social efficiency 
cannot be attained through a purely intellectual training of youth. 

The school, then, as a social group presents important problems to 
the teacher. It is possible to study this school life from two fairly dis- 
tinguishable points of view. First, there is the social life as a thing 
in itself, a sort of corporate existence with a definite character and 

264 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 265 

mode of expression. Secondly, there is the problem of the specific in- 
fluence exerted by this group life upon the traditional work of teaching 
and learning. At first thought, this last problem might appear to be 
only a special aspect of the first one, but it is really a separate and even 
larger question, having to do with the general social conditions of in- 
tellectual development.^ 

The problem now before us is that of gaining a clear concept of the 
nature and significance of the corporate life of the school, the ways of 
controlHng it, when necessary, and even of systematically developing 
it and, furthermore, of the desirability and methods of a social as well 
as an intellectual training. 

That there is a social life of the school there is no need here to argue. 
Whenever people of any age come together and work together for any 
length of time, some sort of esprit de corps is apt to develop, and it is 
not strange that it should develop in the school. To be sure this 
group life varies in character with the age of the pupils. In the ele- 
mentary school, for instance, it consists of little more than a primitive 
mob spirit which is manifested only occasionally. More and more, 
as the secondary school age is approached, does a higher corporate 
life appear among the pupils. Its beginnings are to be noted in gradual 
emergence of opinions of various sorts which exert a marked control- 
ling influence upon each individual. The pupil gradually becomes 
conscious of a public opinion among his associates to which he must 
bow. All sorts of organizations, clubs, and cliques begin quite spon- 
taneously to grow up. The pupils work more and more in groups. 
Leaders appear, and a full-fledged social life is soon in full swing, 
whether the teacher has given the matter his attention or not. The 
first reaction of the teacher to this budding social spirit is often a 
feeling that it should be suppressed because of interfering with the le- 
gitimate work of the school. As soon, however, as it is seen to be in- 
evitable, the thought comes that it should at least be controlled, so as 
to produce a minimum of distractions or, perhaps, that it may furnish 
a safety valve for the bubbling spirits of youth. There can be no 
question of the need of this oversight and control, but we are now be- 
ginning to see that its object is not that of holding in check a necessary 
evil. Instead of an evil, the corporate life of the school is one of the 

1 The treatment of this latter phase will be reserved for a later section. 



266 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

most important opportunities of present-day education. As Brown 
well says : — 

" There are other factors besides discipline and good order in the 
school that should enter into the question of its social life. Is it not 
possible so to control and direct this great adolescent impulse that it 
shall become a valuable factor in the education of boys and girls, both 
from the viewpoint of their own individual welfare and from that of 
social efl&ciency? The dominating influence of the impulse seems to 
challenge our ability to find a valuable use for it rather than to restrain 
it merely, and from the purely educational point of view this is much 
the larger part of the problem. What is the educational value of the 
social life that is possible in the high school? " ^ 

The social development of the pupil is certainly scarcely less im- 
portant than his intellectual and moral training. In fact, it is seen 
with increasing clearness that these latter phases are in very intimate 
ways dependent upon social factors and that they are bound to be 
distorted if the social side is ignored. 

It will be well at this point to try to state just what is meant by so- 
cial education and wherein the need for it exists. Abstractly stated, 
it may be said that the object of social education is to develop and 
afford proper expression for a well-balanced social nature. As one 
writer says,^ it is the whole child who goes to school, and he must be 
provided for as a whole. School is life only in so far as it provides for 
all fundamental interests of those who attend. The school brings 
children together and it is a part of the school's duty to teach them to 
live together as they will have to live as adults, " serious and useful, 
but also glad and happy lives." 

The social training needful is much more than what would be com- 
prised in learning to conform" to the usages of polite society. What 
we have rather in mind is the larger need of learning to mingle with 
other people and being an effective member of a social group. A man 
with ever so well trained a mind will nevertheless be seriously handi- 
capped if he does not know how to talk to his fellow-men, how to per- 
suade them, how to cooperate with them in common enterprises. 
There are a thousand things of the utmost importance for a successful 

^ J. F. Brown, American High School. 

' W. B. Owen, "Social education through the school," School Review, Vol. is, p. 13- 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 267 

life which can be learned only by being an active member of a well- 
organized social group. A man who would succeed in any kind of 
business must know how to meet people and how to deal tactfully 
with them, how to enjoy them, and his sense of humor must be keen. It 
will be greatly to his advantage to know how to conduct himself with- 
out embarrassment and with frankness and courtesy among those of 
the opposite sex. In a word, our truly successful man must be good 
mannered, sympathetic, sociable, human. The school group affords 
many opportunities for providing for just these needs, for effecting 
a wholesome development of the social nature of the youth. The 
qualities enumerated above, although they rest upon instincts, are 
largely shaped by proper social intercourse. 

Nor are the so-called social conventionalities to be despised in edu- 
cation. They often in themselves seem artificial and arbitrary even 
to the point of absurdity, but they are safeguards of individual and 
public morality. Training in social usages affords to adolescents a 
legitimate outlet to impulses, which are, at their age, in very definite 
need of both expression and regulation. A controlled or conventiona- 
lized social life is a safety valve for which the school may well do its 
part to provide. " The educational value of experience in more or 
less formal Kfe is very great, especially for those young people whose 
social positions would deprive them of it elsewhere. Probably it is of 
no less value to the children of the rich or cultured if they learn through 
it the lesson of true politeness and graciousness." ^ 

" What is wanted [then] is a hearty recognition of the desirability 
of many forms of social activity in the high school, and the active 
participation of the faculty or specified members thereof in their de- 
velopment. Already there are some evidences of this in the matter 
of athletics. Under a director of physical education, having a broad 
view of the physiological and social significance of sports and ath- 
letics, much can be done, as experience shows. Possibly in other 
social matters a large high school could not do better than to develop 
some kind of social secretary or school visitor who should study social 
needs and cooperate in the realization of means to meet them. In 
some schools the practice has arisen of having each society which is 
organized with the school as a basis select some member of the faculty 

* J. F. Brown, op. cit. 



268 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

as an advisory or counseling member. This works well, and the 
teachers should be provided with time and means to cooperate. In 
small schools an active principal, of course, keeps the advisory func- 
tions in his own hands, but under present traditions he is not always 
sympathetic, looking upon social activities as something to be toler- 
ated, but not to be encouraged." ^ 

It is important to bear in mind that the social life of the school is a 
great deal larger and more complex than a mere series of evening 
parties or other so-called social functions. It is true these may be 
one of the modes by which that social life finds expression, but there 
are other and even more important modes. It is this narrower aspect, 
however, which the superficial critic usually has in mind when he urges 
against the development of the social life of the school that there is 
already too much of that very thing. True there may be too many 
parties, but there can hardly be too much of properly controlled social 
life. At any rate the social life is there and will remain there, and it is 
the abnormal distorted phases which inevitably develop, when school 
officials refuse to recognize the societary character of the school or 
try to suppress it, that are open to criticism. Of this there may easily 
be too much. 

It is the normal, healthful, corporate life, which finds expression 
in many ways, of which each pupil is a part and to which each pupil 
contributes something that is referred to in this discussion. It re- 
veals itself in various activities of the school as a whole and also in 
all sorts of subsidiary and yet contributing activities. 

" The entire small school may well form the social unit. Even 
in the largest schools the whole must be the unit whose interests domi- 
nate. Smaller groups may be advantageously formed, but their ac- 
tivities must be properly limited, and they must not be left to run 
themselves without the interest or supervision of teachers. . . . 

"These groups may be organized with the best purposes, but the 
instances are extremely few in which they can run successfully without 
the assistance of a wiser head." ^ 

The subordinate groups are to be thought of as expressions of dif- 
ferentiated interests, affording to the several members of the school 

1 Dutton and Snedden, pp. 37Q, 380. 

2 j_ F_ Brown, The American High School, p. 368. 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 269 

group opportunity for contributing to the general life according to 
their individual interests and capacities. The school may be made 
more of an avenue for social training in the best sense by cultivating 
various expressions of general corporate life such as are found in ordi- 
nary schools. Among these, the commonest and often least appre- 
ciated is the school assembly for morning exercises and for other simi- 
lar functions. Another important expression of the life of the school 
as a whole occurs in interschool contests in oratory, debate or ath- 
letics. These contests serve to bring out and develop group feeling 
in ways that are most healthful if they are properly controlled. It is 
not, however, the mere spirit as such that is important, but rather 
opportunities afforded by these strong general interests for various 
lines of cooperative activity in which the entire school may participate. 
Here the pupils get valuable lessons in the art of working together and 
subordinating self-interest to the general welfare. There are also 
unlimited opportunities for learning how to meet and talk to people, 
plead causes, shape opinions of one's fellows, all of which is indis- 
pensable to one who wishes to be able to handle such many-sided vo- 
cations in present-day society as those of the educator, doctor, lawyer, 
minister or business man. 

The school festival as developed by the Ethical Culture School, 
New York, is an admirable illustration of the way the school life may 
find fruitful expression. 

" There are two important effects which may be said to be the basic 
ideas of the festival. The one has to do particularly with the school 
body as audience, the other with those who in any particular festival 
are the performers. The festival serves as a unifying influence which 
is felt by every one in the school audience. This results from the 
fact that although parents are welcomed as visitors, the festival is 
prepared for the members of the school and is adapted to their needs. 
The assigning of various festivals to grades, from different sections of 
the school, and treating the contributions of each as that which one 
part of the family gives to the whole, also adds to this result. Thus, 
at harvest or Thanksgiving time, the members of the oldest class may 
present their message to all their younger mates ; at Christmas time 
the entertainers are an intermediate grade ; on May Day, the pri- 
maries. Then, again at the Christmas season, each class may join 



2 7© SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

in the grand procession, and with gay costumes, rolUcking song or 
simple action contribute its part to the whole. Each gives what it 
can, and all receiving this in a sympathetic way are thus bound into 
one large family or social group. The appreciative applause with 
which the older greet the younger, who in their turn at the proper 
time repay the compliment, gives rise to a school feeling and pride 
which is an inspiration and help to all. 

" Possibly the most important underlying idea is this : For those 
who are presenting the festival, there are certain advantages that can 
hardly be secured in any other way. The responsibility for the occa- 
sion introduces a peculiarly valuable motive which affects even the 
most unresponsive members of the class. The problem of learning 
has a new aspect, for the question of communication here appears 
in its best form. To the performers comes a transforming standard; 
not what we know, but what we can make others know ; not what we 
feel, but what we can make others feel. Very soon arises a conscious- 
ness of that first element of effective communication ; namely, abso- 
lute clearness and definiteness on the part of the one who is to give the 
message. Pupils become conscious of their own weaknesses, as they 
strive to collect their material. In the desire to help others they find 
they must prepare themselves. There arises a spirit of self-induced 
activity which is of the greatest value. Books are read, authorities 
consulted, pictures studied, that the teacher hardly knows about." ^ 

Aside from these general expressions of group life there are, as we 
have indicated, the differentiated activities of various minor organiza- 
tions, all, however, contributing something of interest to the general 
life of the school. Of such are the various clubs, athletic, dramatic, 
debating, camera and musical; the chorus, the orchestra, etc. In 
each case something of more or less general interest is worked out by 
those specially adapted for it. A part of the interest is due to the 
knowledge that they are doing something in whose accomplishment all 
are to some extent interested. In fact, the very life of a club depends 
upon some degree of social approval — upon some recognition of social 
service. " The school must seek out and develop Unes of social par- 
ticipation, and must aim in a friendly manner to aid those of spon- 
taneous development. Only thus can it recognize the vast impor- 
1 Peter Dykema, Craftsman, 12 : 649, 650. 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 271 

tance of this period in social education. Social education of the best 
type will not be found in books, nor even through the contact of teach- 
ers of high social power. It must be learned in action, and the schools 
must aid in the development of channels for these activities." ^ 

In these smaller organizations there is again abundant opportunity 
for the individual to learn the lessons of the social arts of conversa- 
tion, of service, of cooperation and of leadership. It is most important 
that the members of the various subsidiary organizations should feel 
that what they do is a sort of specialized contribution to the common 
life of the school. In this life of the school as a whole and of the vari- 
ous organizations within the school there is fertile soil in which primary 
ideals will almost spontaneously spring up and flourish. 

Aside from the social training from participation in the general and 
specialized phases of school life, some have felt that there is need for a 
social training in the narrower sense. Thus it is held ^ that the school 
must provide for mere social recreation, and that it should offer in its 
program, at stated intervals, opportunities for social intercourse of 
the more formal sort. The first and most valuable result of such op- 
portunities for social recreation is that they satisfy a natural and harm- 
less desire, " and thus contribute to the happiness of the individual. 
The youth who has no social life is usually unhappy, and is sometimes 
driven by his solitude to unfortunate habits of thought or conduct. 
In mature life one is glad to remember a happy youth as well as a happy 
childhood, and whatever contributes innocently to that end is com- 
mendable." ' 

The average modern family, even if it fully imderstood the need, 
is scarcely able, financially, to provide properly for the social recrea- 
tion of its children. The school at least has an opportunity that the 
home does not have. The children are already together and are under 
more or less definite control. It usually has some suitable places such as 
classrooms or gymnasium in which social functions can take place with 
httle expense and under proper supervision. Moreover, as Owen says, 
" the natural companionship of the pupil is with his schoolmates. 
The school society, in reality, is formed every morning when the pupils 

1 Button and Snedden, op. cit., p. 380. 

^ W. B. Owen, "Social Education through the School," School Review, Vol. 15. 

'Brown, op. cit., p. 311. 



272 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

leave their homes, and is dissolved every evening as they reach their 
homes. The very act of bringing the young together for school pur- 
poses is a stimulus to their social instincts. The school ought to recog- 
nize this, and in connection with, and under the control of, the school 
there ought to be provided ample opportunity for purely social rec- 
reation. This policy would not contemplate at all the confusing 
of two different aims, the intellectual and the social, but the fusion of 
the two into a larger and more inclusive aim. I would advocate, to 
be explicit, the introduction intolthe program of the school regular 
social occasions, as stated, at reasonably frequent intervals. These 
social meetings might take whatever form the circumstances would 
suggest. They should be conducted under school control in such a 
way as to be a source of pleasure to the pupils and of real educational 
value. Ask yourselves about our ideals as to the all-around training 
of our own children. Do we not consider their social training an es- 
sential element in their future success, just as essential as their intel- 
lectual training ? Can we not secure this training in large measure, if 
we but know how, in connection with their school life ? We trust this 
whole side of education to the family. But I submit that the family 
does not and cannot control the social training that for good or ill 
is an inevitable accompaniment of the gathering together of so many 
young people into the school. Instead of deliberately neglecting 
these patent facts, why should we not utihze them as a golden oppor- 
tunity for roimding out our educational scheme? We should thus 
unify and enrich the life of the children and bind them by the strongest 
ties to the school, and the indirect influence of such a course on the 
purely intellectual work of the school would be of the best. I know 
of an experiment of this kind in a school, and I can bear testimony that 
in the opinion of teachers and pupils the experiment is an unquaUfied 
success. 

" That some such provision is needed in our schools is proved by the 
development of the high school fraternities and sororities. The real 
meaning of these organizations is that the pupils have in this way at- 
tempted to provide just such social opportunities as we have suggested. 
I.t is idle to object to them that they are selfish and inadequate, when 
we remember that they are the creations of young and inexperienced 
children. It is equally idle to declaim against them unless we can 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 273 

provide some other system that will do for all what they do for some. 
I am strongly opposed to the fraternity system in our schools, but I 
hope that I am not bigoted on the question. My fundamental and 
single objection to them is the fact that they organize the school on a 
social basis that is narrow and selfish. I can conceive, however, a 
social organization of the school in which they might possibly be of 
but little significance. But as long as the Hfe of the school is what it 
now is, they serve but to emphasize our neglect. I can appreciate the 
theoretical defense made in their behalf by a culture-epoch theory of 
history. The simple fact is that they stand in the way of a social 
organization of the school that shall provide for all free expressions to 
social instinct, controlled development of social power, and a happy 
enjoyment of the society of one's fellows. The best way to deal with 
the school fraternity is to beat it at its own game. 

"Other vexed questions of school policy and management find a rea- 
sonable solution when viewed from this standpoint. School athletics 
are an instance in point. As at present conducted, they are for the 
selected few. All that is said for them as developing individual cour- 
age and prowess and as focusing at times the spirit of the school could 
as well be said were they but incidental to a larger athletic life in 
which all could participate. Provision for supervised and directed 
play for all pupils is the ideal, not toward which we should strive, but 
with which we should begin. We talk a great deal about the play 
instinct and its place in intellectual and social development. But we 
promote a system of school athletics that throws our theories to the 
winds. Let some one of our schools set itself resolutely to experiment 
with this problem and give us all the benefit of the results. Could we 
ask for a better chance to provide social and moral training than 
might be found on a well-equipped playground under the control of 
rightly trained instructors? The park commissioners have recognized 
the opportunities, even if the board of education has not. 

"If the point of view we have developed is correct, what shall we say 
of coeducation in the schools? The problem is not an easy one, and 
it bids fair to become more difficult with the growing complexity of our 
life. Admitting, then, the difficulties to exist, what shall be our 
method of procedure ? We have a system thoroughly established — 
at least in the schools of the Middle West. In the main, it has worked 



I 

274 ^ SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

satisfactorily. Now that we are conscious of certain unfavorable 
tendencies and results, what should be our recourse? Should we 
hastily retrace our steps and abandon what we have already gained ? 
Should we not rather ask ourselves if these shortcomings of the sys- 
tem are not due to the neglect to round out and complete it ? I pre- 
fer to believe that the latter is the way of wisdom. Mechanically to 
mass boys and girls together in a classroom or in the halls is not co- 
education. The problem does not have its origin in the classroom. 
It is pushed in from outside. Not originating there, it cannot be solved 
there. It is a problem again of the organization of the whole school 
life. Why can we not realize what the problem is and adopt direct 
means to solve it instead of evading or retreating? Boys and girls 
should be taught to live and work together as they will be called upon 
to live and work in life." 

It is scarcely necessary to specify at length the objections to an un- 
controlled social life in the school. As suggested in the above quota- 
tion, the fraternity is one of the results. In general, lack of control 
results in the development of factions and cliques. A school with 
such a social life is more open to the lower aspects of suggestion. A 
distinctly low plane of sociality develops. The pupils get no well- 
balanced social education. Some are crowded out and others appro- 
priate the Uon's share of the privileges that should be for all alike. 

In the pages which follow is described the practical experience of 
one school which has attempted to provide for the social needs of its 
pupils. 

The Social Organization of the High School 

That the school is a society, that the child is a social being, that 
education is not preparation for life, but life itself, are statements 
found in many oft-recurring forms in the literature of pedagogy. 
Of the truth of the principle involved, there can be no doubt. In 
recent times the curriculum of the secondary school has been ex- 
amined in the light of this doctrine, and important modifications have 
been made involving the dropping of some subjects, the addition of 
others, and marked changes in methods of instruction. But no one 
will declare that with all these changes on the formal side our high 
schools are now making adequate provision for the social training of 
their pupils. 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 275 

Sociability is a marked characteristic of the period of adolescence. 
Young people of this age form natural groups for team games, for 
literary and artistic pursuits of a more or less serious nature, and for 
less serious enjoyments such as dancing. The reason underlying the 
formation of all these groups is their desire to be together. The 
home is able to provide for these social enjoyments only in a small 
degree, and in most cases does not do so at all. The church does 
something in this direction for those whom it is able to reach. Some 
churches have formed clubs for their boys and girls which in a meas- 
ure satisfy the social needs of a few, but these organizations are usually 
restricted by lack of suitable leaders and of the facilities required to 
give variety and permanent attractiveness to their work. The 
Young Men's Christian Association also partly meets the needs of 
many. But the street corner, vacant lot, billiard hall, and some- 
times less desirable places are often the only places in which this 
natural instinct finds unrestricted opportunity for development. 
Under these conditions it is small wonder that the satisfaction of this 
desire for social activity on the part of young people often takes 
forms annoying to the older and more serious members of the com- 
munity, if not positively harmful to the young people themselves. 
But while the home, the church and similar organizations are unable 
to meet the social needs of the adolescent boy and girl, the high school 
is peculiarly adapted to this end. It is the natural center for the 
promotion and proper regulation of this side of the pupil's life. Thrown 
together intimately during a large part of their waking hours, the 
pupils most naturally form their social groups from their school- 
fellows. The classes form natural units for competition in athletic 
games; the pupil's interest in literary, musical or artistic activities 
often makes it possible to turn his social instincts in directions which 
promote his intellectual and aesthetic development. There is also 
the additional advantage that the authority of the teachers, which 
controls the pupils as no authority outside of school does, if extended 
sympathetically to the social life of the pupils, assures a better regu- 
lation than can possibly be provided in any other way. 

It is apparent that the high school has generally failed to recog- 
nize its responsibility in this direction. Athletic, literary, debating, 
musical and art clubs, with the other forms of social activity natural 
to this period, are seldom thought of by school authorities as a means 
of securing an important educational end. Save as a principal or 
teacher has a chance to interest himself in some particular form of the 
social life of his pupils, little attention is paid to those features of school 
life except to repress or control their troublesome developments. 
For proof of this, one need only look through the proceedings of our 
educational societies and the periodicals of secondary education, 



276 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

where he will find numerous articles dealing with the pathological 
side of the situation. Prominent among these are numerous papers 
dealing with the difficulties arising from the financial mismanagement 
of school athletics and the low standards of sportsmanship prevailing 
in high schools. Perhaps the best illustration of the serious conse- 
quences of the prevalent attitude of school authorities toward these 
matters is found in the school fraternity, which grew up and flourished 
recently in response to a real need of the pupils for the satisfaction of 
which the school made no provision. But neither the difficulties 
connected with school athletics nor the more serious ones of the school 
fraternity can be permanently removed by the method of repression. 
Unless we give more serious and intelligent consideration to the real 
nature of the problem, we shall find ourselves before long confronted 
by the same difficulties in another form. We cannot change the 
nature of the boy, nor should we try to do so. Only as we come to 
understand him and work sympathetically with him can we expect 
to secure peace for ourselves and an adequate social training for him. 

The English public schools since the time of Arnold have recog- 
nized the importance of sports in developing the many quaUties 
which make for sound character. One need only visit the playing 
fields of Rugby on an afternoon of a half holiday and watch the boys 
at play, or walk through the cricket clubhouse where no lockers are 
necessary to insure the security of one's possessions, to realize that 
there are standards of honesty and sportsmanship attainable among 
boys which we have as yet hardly dared to hope for. It is true that 
the boys in these schools come from a distinct social class and present 
a homogeneity of ideal and training which is found in none of our pub- 
lic high schools and is only approached in a few of our private schools; 
yet the traditions and practices of the great public schools of England 
are the result of an appreciation of the possibilities of utilizing the 
natural social instincts of the boys and of a definite plan of organi- 
zation for the purpose of securing through these the best possible 
training for the leaders of the next generation. Of late, notable 
success has been secured in the same direction in the English mu- 
nicipal day schools, which are very much like our public high schools. 
The most valuable lesson which we may learn from the English 
schools is in their recognition of the value of the more purely social 
activities as a means of training the youth and in their method of 
organizing these activities in such a way as to secure the best results. 

In this country many schools have adopted elaborate systems of 
social organization called " school cities " and generally spoken of 
under the rather misleading caption of " student self-government." 
These have consciously imitated the forms of organization of mature 
society, particularly on the repressive side, with policemen and courts 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 277 

of justice through which offenders against the requirements of the 
school society are detected, apprehended, tried and sentenced by 
their fellows. It is claimed that practical civics may best be taught 
in this way, that pupils develop greater independence, a higher sense 
of honor, and more consideration for the rights of others. These 
desirable ends have doubtless been secured through the operation of 
the plan under favorable conditions. However, its adoption by 
teachers who had not considered sufi&ciently the details of the plan 
or by those who were not adapted to this peculiar method of control 
has led in many cases to its failure and abandonment. In the last 
analysis there is no such thing as successful student self-government. 
The guiding personality of the teacher, however tactfully he may 
conceal himself, is the one feature to its success. It may further be 
said that this form of organization is highly artificial, and the duties 
which the pupils assume with the offices to which they are elected 
are likely to become uninteresting and arduous. 

After all, the school city does not, as an essential part of its opera- 
tion, make provision for those natural social activities to which I 
have just referred as so prominent in the life of the English public 
school. In these, the house, in which from forty to sixty boys live, 
forms the natural unit of organization of the social life. On entrance 
to school a boy is placed in a certain house of which he continues to 
be a member so long as he remains in the school. In this house center 
all his social interests and enthusiasms. For its honor he contends 
in football, cricket and the other forms of contests, feeling greater 
concern only for the honor of his school as a whole. The same method 
of organization has been employed in many English day schools, the 
boys being divided into groups called " houses," carrying over this 
name from the boarding schools, although of course the boys do not 
live together in separate houses. Among the advantages of this 
method of organization are the following : the houses form units of 
convenient size and provide a large number of positions in which 
boys are learning how to be effective leaders ; the permanency of the 
group makes it possible to build up strong and helpful traditions ; 
the presence in the same house of boys at all stages of advancement 
brings the younger boys into intimate relation with their leaders and 
provides for the control of the younger by the older boys. 

The house method with some modification has been adopted in 
some of our American boarding schools, but it is not adapted to con- 
ditions in our high schools. What we may learn from the English 
school is not so much in the direction of formal organization as in the 
attitude of the teachers toward the social life of the boys. In England 
the secondary school teacher feels it as much a part of his work to 
share in the sports of his boys on the playground as to instruct them 



278 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

in the classroom. It is not difficult to trace to its own source the 
real reason why sport is enjoyed by English boys for its own sake 
and why the low standards of honesty and sportsmanship so often 
found in American schools are not to be found there. Instead of 
placing our teachers in responsible charge of the boys at their games, 
more often we leave them without supervision or give them into the 
hands of professional coaches whose personal habits are frequently 
questionable and whose chief desire is that their team may win at 
whatever cost. It is absolutely essential to the proper organization 
and control of the social activities of the high school that the teachers 
shall recognize their value and share in the responsibiHty and labor 
involved. It is only fair to expect that time and effort spent by 
teachers in these directions shall be taken into consideration in the 
amount of other work assigned in the more formal work of teaching. 

No such basis as the English schools find in their house plan for 
the formation of suitable groups seems to be at hand in our high 
schools. The classes form natural groups around which certain 
social activities center, but in the various literary, scientific, musical 
and other clubs, no such basis of selection is appropriate. Here 
similarity of interests seems to offer the only basis for the formation 
of groups. One principle must be insisted upon, that all except class 
clubs shall be open to all members of the school, both pupils and 
teachers. 

The details of organization adapted to any individual school may 
best be worked out by those in charge. It may not be inappropriate 
to state with some completeness the methods employed and the 
results secured in the school with which the writer is connected. 
The University High School, Chicago, is a day school of six hundred 
pupils of whom about two thirds are boys. The school aims to pro- 
vide for all the proper social activities of its pupils. These activities 
are in charge of four committees of the faculty as follows : Committee 
on Athletics and Games, Committee on Literary Clubs, Committee 
on Science and Art Clubs, Committee on Student Publications. The 
following rules have been adopted governing all clubs in the school : 
(i) All clubs have faculty advisers. (2) No club holds its meetings 
in the evening. (3) New clubs to be formed must obtain the approval 
of the appropriate faculty committee. (4) All clubs in arranging for 
the time of meeting must consult the appropriate faculty committee. 
(5) The days of meeting of the different clubs are : Monday — Music 
Clubs; Tuesday — Science and Literary Clubs; Wednesday, Arts 
and Crafts Clubs; Thursday — Debating Clubs; Friday — Parties. 
It is apparent that these activities are under careful supervision. 
This, of course, does not mean that the teachers exert a repressive 
influence that robs the social life of the pupils of its natural spon- 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 279 

taneity. They are rather helpful advisers sharing with the pupils in 
their enjoyment of their social life. The requirement that all meet- 
ings of clubs shall be in the daytime removes many difficulties that 
are found where pupils gather in the evening. All meetings are held 
on the school premises, the usual hour being three o'clock, the hour 
when the session of the day ends. The schedule providing for meet- 
ings of certain groups of clubs on certain days makes it possible for 
a pupil to belong to clubs of various sorts and thus extend his social 
activities more widely than he otherwise might. 

Athletics naturally interest the greatest number of both boys and 
girls. For the boys, athletics include football, baseball, track, basket 
ball, swimming, golf, tennis and gymnastics; for the girls there are 
basket ball, baseball, hockey, tennis, golf, swimming, track and 
gymnastics. These sports are in charge of the Department of Phys- 
ical Instruction, which consists of two men and two women who 
devote all their time to the physical training of the pupils with such 
assistants as are necessary to secure careful supervision of all games. 
There are contests throughout the entire year in these various sports, 
out of doors when the weather is suitable and indoors at other times. 
Most of the contests are between different teams of the school. For 
these teams the classes form the basis of division, though the num- 
ber of teams from a given class is not confined to one in each sport. 
For example, in the autumn, in football each class has its first and 
second teams. Definite schedules are played by the boys' class teams 
in football, baseball, track (both indoor and outdoor), basket ball, 
and tennis, and by the girls' teams in basket ball, swimming and 
tennis. With competition running high for places on these different 
teams and with daily practice or games, it will be seen that every 
afternoon throughout the entire year finds a large number both of 
the boys and of the girls engaged in competitive games of some sort. 
During the autumn of last year there were eight football teams prac- 
ticing and playing regularly. It is possible in this way to rob of all 
weight the objection that athletics actually furnish physical training 
only to a few pupils and those the ones who least need it. While the 
school does not yet secure, as do the English public schools, that 
each pupil who is physically able shall compete regularly in some 
form of athletic sport, yet a large part, both boys and girls, actually 
do engage in such sport with regularity under careful supervision. 

While in most schools interschool games with the preparation of 
the teams for these contests comprise all the athletic training and 
are participated in by a very small number of pupils, in the Univer- 
sity High School the interschool games comprise but a small part of 
those actually played. For example, last autumn, while there were 
more than one hundred boys who played in football games, there 



28o SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

were only four games played with teams from other schools. In some 
other forms of sport the number of interschool games was larger than 
in football, but in all the sports the number of games played between 
teams within the school was much in excess of those played with 
teams from other schools. It has been urged that distinct advantage 
would be gained if all interschool athletic games could be given up 
and all contests be confined to teams within the school. The high 
schools of one city have tried this plan, and reports indicate that the 
results have been most satisfactory. This is doubtless an effective 
method of getting rid of the serious difficulties that have attended 
interschool games in the past. But these difficulties are not without 
possibihty of remedy, and giving up interschool contests is a distinct 
loss to a school. Dr. Gulick has shown that while the physical results 
of interschool athletics are inconsiderable, the chief end sought in 
these contests is not physical, but social and moral, training in which 
the whole school shares. By being loyal to his school, whether a 
member of a team or not, a boy is developing " the qualities of loyalty, 
of social morality and of social conscience. These are the essential 
elements out of which social loyalty and morahty may be developed." 
With clear vision and firm insistence upon high standards of sports- 
manlike conduct on the part of athletic teams, school officers may 
lay the foundation of traditions for clean and gentlemanly sport 
which every member of the school, as well as the members of the 
team, will take pride in maintaining. Not many years ago the 
annual football game between two schools was attended with a 
general fight between the supporters of the opposing teams in which 
it was necessary for the police to take a hand, followed in the dark- 
ness of night by defacement of the walls of the school buildings by 
the painting of opprobrious epithets. Last autumn on the evening 
before the game between these same schools, the members of one 
team were entertained at dinner by the members of the other, and 
while the game was attended by intense enthusiasm on the part of 
the supporters from each school, there were none of the unfortunate 
occurrences of the former year, and the two schools actually cheered 
for each other more than once during the game. There is no doubt 
that here was a distinct gain in social morality on the part of some 
two thousand young people which was worth much efifort to secure 
and which could not have been gained except through the agency of 
carefully conducted interschool athletics. In order to establish the 
relation of host and guest between the opposing teams, in the con- 
tract for two games in successive years with the only team outside 
Chicago with which our team will play, there is a specific agreement 
that the home team shall entertain their visitors socially at dinner on 
the evening before the game. 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 281 

At the close of the season for each sport, school emblems are 
awarded to members of the teams which have represented the school, 
and to the class teams the privilege of wearing the class numeral is 
given. These are voted by the faculty committee on athletics on 
the recommendation of the member of the Department of Physical 
Training in charge of the team and the captain of the team. In 
awarding these emblems, faithfulness in training and in practice and 
loyalty to the team and school are fundamental requirements which 
are considered in addition to ability and performance in the games. 
It has happened that an athlete of exceptional ability has failed to 
receive an emblem because he did not meet the high standard set 
outside that for mere ability in the sport. When it is also considered 
that the privilege of representing the school in any form depends 
upon the satisfactory performance of scholastic work, it will be under- 
stood that the school emblem is perhaps the most coveted possession 
one may secure. At the last assembly of each quarter the successes 
of the teams are recoimted by their fellows, and the members are 
called upon the platform, where, amid great enthusiasm, they receive 
their emblems. But opportunity is never lost at these times to point 
out the real meaning of the occasion and to restate and strengthen the 
traditions for manly sport that are becoming every year more effective 
in the school. 

While athletics probably engage a larger amount of time and 
interest than all other forms of social life combined, provision is made 
for a great variety of social activity of other sorts. Debating is 
carried on in class clubs which meet at regular intervals and in the 
Clay Club, an organization which dates from the first year of the 
school. Debates are held each year with other schools, for which the 
debaters are selected by competition open to the entire school. After 
the contests the sting of defeat as well as the elation of victory is 
tempered by bringing the representatives of the two schools together 
socially on the basis of guest and host. The Engineering Club holds 
regular meetings throughout the year, at which reports are made and 
papers read both by members of the Club and by others. The Camera 
and Sketch clubs interest many, and make creditable exhibits of their 
work at the end of the year which attract the attention not only of 
members of the school, but of many visitors. The Dramatic Club 
supplements regular work given to an elective class in connection with 
the English Department. Perhaps the most creditable public per- 
formance connected with all the social work of the school has been 
the annual dramatic entertainment, which attracts a large and appre- 
ciative audience. Two short plays, of high literary and artistic merit, 
are presented, the object being to provide opportunity for as large a 
number as possible to share the benefits resulting from this training. 



282 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Competent judges select the participants in trials open to all pupils 
of the school. There are various musical clubs, both vocal and in- 
strumental, which meet regularly and furnish music for the school 
assemblies and various public occasions. Modern language clubs make 
agreeable social adjuncts to the classroom work in these departments. 

Reference has been made to the classes as forming natural group 
divisions in athletics. These are also used for debating, music, class 
parties, etc. Class meetings give excellent opportunities for gaining 
knowledge and practice in parliamentary usage. Class elections are 
always held by ballot in the school ofl&ce. Nominations are made by 
a committee elected by the class, and additional nominations may be 
made by petition signed by ten members of the class. In practice 
this method of nomination is always employed. 

There are three student publications, — a daily newspaper, a monthly 
devoted to literary work, and an annual of the usual sort. Each of 
these is under the careful supervision of a teacher. The daily is a 
four-page sheet which covers in a thorough manner the daily hap- 
penings of the school and also serves as a bulletin for announcements 
to pupils and faculty. A separate group of editors has charge of 
each day's issue during the week, thus distributing the work so that 
it is not excessive. The material used in the monthly is selected from 
the regular theme work of the class. 

The Students' Council is an organization consisting of fifteen mem- 
bers, comprising the presidents of each of the four classes and four 
members of the senior class, three members of the junior class, and 
two members each from the sophomore and freshman class. It is 
thus a representative group of the entire school. Regular meetings 
are held at which matters of general interest to the school are dis- 
cussed. Recommendations from the students to the faculty are made 
through the medium of the council. Measures under consideration 
by the faculty are sometimes referred to the council and their opinion 
sought. Aside from these deliberative functions, the council nomi- 
nates the candidates for managers of the various athletic teams before 
their election by the Faculty Committee on Athletics and Games. 

A group of " honor societies " presents what is, perhaps, a unique 
feature in the high school. One of these, open both to boys and 
girls, is based on scholarship. Its object, as stated, is to maintain 
the standard of scholarship and to promote good fellowship among 
the members of the school. Election to this is confined to members 
of the senior class who have been members of the school not less than 
two years, who have maintained a certain high record of scholarship, 
and who are of good moral character. All who have satisfied these 
conditions are elected to membership on approval of the deans. 
Membership in this society is a highly coveted honor. Two other 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 283 

societies, one each for boys and girls, are composed of members of the 
senior class selected because of distinguished service in promoting the 
social, as contrasted with the scholastic, life of the school. The 
memlDership of the boys' society is limited to fifteen, and of the girls' 
society to ten. For purpose of election to these societies, the more 
important of the offices in connection with the various social organi- 
zations are divided into two classes, major and minor. Those holding 
major offices become ex officio members. Of those holding minor 
offices, enough are selected by the senior class to fill the membership 
of the boys' society to fifteen, and of the girls' to ten. In these elec- 
tions, which are held by ballot in the school offices, boys vote for 
boys, and girls for girls. All candidates for these societies, both ex 
officio and by election, must be approved by vote of the faculty. 
That it may not appear that too great a premium is placed on the 
holding of office, it should be stated that no one of these offices, either 
major or minor, can be held by one who has failed in any study during 
the previous quarter or whose work in any study is unsatisfactory 
at the time of election. That membership in these societies is the 
most highly coveted honor in the school will be easily appreciated. 
It is interesting to note that there are several instances each year in 
which the same pupil is a member of the honor society based on 
scholarship and of that based on social prominence. 

The general school assembly plays an important part in the social 
life of the school. This occurs on Monday morning and occupies a 
full hour. It is introduced by a brief formal religious service. The 
remainder of the hour is used in various ways to serve the interests 
of the school. All announcements regarding the different clubs and 
other student organizations are made by the student officers, who 
always speak from the platform. A sense of responsibility is thus 
encouraged in the officers, and, besides, there is no small value in this 
practice in extemporaneous speaking before a large and critical 
audience. School activities not easily under observation are made 
the subjects of special programs. An example of this sort is the 
school daily, to which an entire program was given, embodying a 
description by several members of the staff of the process of bringing 
out a single issue. The awarding of emblems to the athletic teams 
at the close of each quarter has already been described. Frequent 
musical programs are furnished by members of the faculty and 
pupils. There are lectures and addresses on appropriate subjects 
from time to time, and of course there are certain vital topics which 
need to be presented by the officers of the school. In general it is 
the purpose to make the assembly an occasion in which the whole 
school gathers to consider together, in as informal a manner as pos- 
sible, the things which are vitally interesting to the school. 



284 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

The University High School, in common with most city high 
schools, has had its fraternity problem to settle. Five years ago 
there were in the school several secret societies among both boys and 
girls. The whole question was considered carefully for a year by 
faculty, parents and students. As a result of much discussion it was 
decided by vote of the Parents' Association to rid the school of these 
organizations by requiring a pledge from the pupils who were then 
members that they would take no further members into their societies. 
The original societies, with constantly diminishing membership by 
reason of graduation or removal, had a legitimate existence in the 
school up to last year. All applicants for admission to the school be- 
fore their applications are accepted are now required to present the fol- 
lowing pledge signed by themselves and their parents or guardians : — 

" I hereby declare that I am not a member of any fraternity, 
sorority, or other secret society, and that I am not pledged to any 
such society. I hereby promise without any mental reservation that, 
as long as I shall be a member of the University High School, I will 
have no connection whatever with any secret society, in this school or 
elsewhere. I also declare that I regard myself bound to keep these 
promises, and on no account to violate any of them." 

The present situation with reference to fraternities has not been 
secured without many difficulties. These have been increased by the 
proximity of other schools in which chapters of the fraternities repre- 
sented in the University High School could not be prevented from 
initiating members of the school. It has been necessary to remove 
from school a few who have violated their pledges. It may, how- 
ever, fairly be said that the fraternity problem has been successfully 
solved. 

The school authorities, however, have recognized that the fra- 
ternity represented the students' attempt to satisfy for themselves a 
genuine need. To provide for this natural desire of boys to get 
together in a place which they may call their own, the University 
High Club was started a little m.ore than two years ago. Fortunately, 
there was a two-story dwelling house situated on the school ground, 
and owned by the University, which was easily made available for the 
use of the club. The house has a reception room, a reading room, a 
dining room, and a kitchen on the first floor ; the second floor is 
occupied by the billiard room and one or two other small rooms. 
The clubhouse is open each day from 12.30 to 6 p.m. to members, 
who may be either boys or male teachers of the school. The mem- 
bership fee is within the reach of all. Additional income is obtained 
from the billiard and pool tables and from the lunch room, which, 
by its profits, pays the expenses of a competent steward for the house. 
The officers of the club are boys who are under the supervision of a 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 285 

member of the faculty. Regular meetings of the ofl&cers and direc- 
tors are held, and a good deal of enterprise is shown in the manage- 
ment of club affairs. There is always a feeling of responsibility on 
the part of the officers who are among the older and more reliable 
boys which has absolutely prevented any serious misuse of the privi- 
leges of the club. The clubhouse is much frequented, boys and 
teachers enjoying its privileges together. Occasional social events 
take place here on Friday or Saturday evenings, such as small enter- 
tainments given by members of the club, or talks by men, some- 
times the fathers of the boys. Visiting athletic teams are entertained 
here, the boys taking peculiar satisfaction in extending this courtesy 
in a clubhouse which is their own. Occasionally on a Saturday or 
some other special day, the clubhouse has been turned over to the 
girls, who have greatly appreciated this borrowed privilege. For the 
past two years there has been a Girls' Club, membership in which is 
open to all girls in the school without charge. Seven rooms in an 
apartment house on the school grounds have been attractively fur- 
nished by the girls and their mothers, and are used exclusively for the 
club. The club is organized similarly to that of the boys, and meets 
the social needs of the girls of the school. These clubs form the 
center of the social life of the boys and girls. In both there is a con- 
sistent effort to maintain a democratic spirit and to avoid the atmos- 
phere of snobbishness, which is fundamentally the worst feature of the 
fraternity and sorority. 

A recent innovation which promises to be of significance in the 
moral training of the boys of the school has been this year carried on 
in connection with the city Young Men's Christian Association. On 
each Wednesday evening a supper is served in the Y. M. C. A. build- 
ing to the boys of the University High School and the Hyde Park 
High School, a public school in the same section of the city. The 
privilege of attendance has not been limited to members of the Asso- 
ciation. From fifty to one hundred boys with three or four instructors 
sit down together at table. After supper they disperse to different 
rooms, where some form of Bible study or the consideration of some 
distinctively moral subject is taken up for forty-five minutes. The 
experience of one year indicates that these groups are likely to become 
centers of moral influence affecting the life of the entire school most 
beneficially. 

Up to this point no direct reference has been made to that side 
of the social life growing out of the association of boys and girls in 
the same school. Of course, these relations have been implied in 
connection with the class organizations and the various dramatic, 
musical, literary and art clubs, in which the boys and girls mingle 
freely. It is, however, in connection with the parties that the boys 



286 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

and girls come together for the sole purpose of enjoying one another's 
society. On each Friday afternoon during the autumn and winter 
quarters, there is a dancing party in the gymnasium from three to 
four-thirty. This is in charge of the teacher, who gives the regular 
class instruction in gymnastic dancing; there are also other teachers 
present and always a considerable number of parents. The party is 
open to all members of the school, but to no one else. No one is 
allowed to enter after the party opens nor leave until its close, and 
all who are present participate. The dancing takes the form of a 
cotillion, in which the figures are so devised as to secure a frequent and 
general mixing of the participants. The party closes formally, the 
parents and teachers standing in line to receive the good nights of 
the pupils as they pass out. These parties are largely attended, are 
evidently greatly enjoyed, and are marked by naturalness in the 
relations of the boys and girls toward each other. The period since 
these parties have been held has witnessed a constant diminution in 
the silliness which is supposed to accompany the relations of boys 
and girls at this age, and a corresponding increase in natural and un- 
affected conduct in the presence of each other. At the end of the 
autumn and winter quarters, two of these parties are made special 
occasions, one for the two lower, and the other for the two upper, 
classes. At these the Parents' Association provides favors, refresh- 
ments and special music. Again, toward the close of the year, an- 
other party is given to the whole school under the same auspices, 
which is the only school party for the year held in the evening. 

All the activities thus far mentioned are planned directly for the 
pleasure or profit of the members of the school community. An 
opportunity for a larger social outlook is found in the University 
settlement, with whose aims and work the pupils are brought into 
intelligent and sympathetic contact. At least once each year some 
of the settlement workers speak at the school assembly. A settle- 
ment committee of boys and girls has occasional meetings and makes 
plans for assisting in the work. During the last two years the follow- 
ing results have been accomplished : a group of girls gave an exhibi- 
tion of class work and games in the settlement gymnasium ; Christ- 
mas parties for a number of old people have been held at the settle- 
ment, for which the pupils prepared enormous stockings filled with 
all sorts of articles useful and otherwise; two dramatic entertain- 
ments prepared for the school's own enjoyment have been repeated 
on the settlement stage ; considerable sums of money have been 
secured through musical and other entertainments and by contribu- 
tions from pupils which have provided for camping excursions for a 
large number of city boys who otherwise could not have enjoyed this 
pleasure. There has been a conscious effort to avoid the danger of 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 2S7 

making the boys and girls self-righteous prigs by having their con- 
tributions to the settlement as far as possible grow naturally out of 
the activities of their own social life about school. 

Reference has several times been made to the parents in connection 
with the social life of the school. It will easily be understood that 
no such elaborate social organization can be conducted successfully 
without the intelligent and substantial cooperation of the parents and 
pupils. The Parents' Association has taken up for consideration many 
of the features in the social organization described, has provided the 
money necessary to their inauguration, and each year provides the 
money necessary to maintain these activities. Through committees 
and individuals they come into very close contact with the social life 
of the school. 

It is at once apparent that the conditions which make such a com- 
plete organization of the social life possible are peculiar to a few 
schools, and that the resources necessary cannot be secured in most 
public, and many private, secondary schools. However, at the first, 
no one foresaw the full development of the elaborate organization in 
the University High School. The present condition has been an 
evolution which began in the idea that it was the function of the high 
school to provide for the training of the pupil's whole nature, followed 
by a determined effort to make this idea effective. With the same 
idea and determination any school, whatever its situation or cir- 
cumstances, may at once begin to make effective those agencies 
which, as no others in our public school can, train boys and girls to 
become morally self-reliant men and women. 

F. W. Johnson, reprinted from The School Review. December, 1909. 

TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION 

I. State fully the reasons for regarding the school as a social group. 
What view of the school does traditional school practice seem to be 
based upon ? 

2._ Contrast the views of LeBon and Cooley as means of inter- 
preting the school Kfe. Do both have a place ; or is one or the other 
pathological ? 

^^ 3; Opportunities afforded by the school for the development of 
"primary ideals." Obstacles in the school to their development. 

4. What can you say of the desirability of developing and con- 
serving a social life of a school as a whole? Explain the English 
"House system" as a means. Its adaptation to large schools of the 
American type. See Findlay. Consider also the Abbottsholme 
School described by Scott. 



288 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

5. Relation of subsidiary organizations to the general school life. 

6. What are the social objections to the secret fraternity in the high 
school ? 

7. Justify if you can the ideal that the school should provide for 
the social as well as the intellectual development of children. 

8. How would you meet the objection that there is already too much 
social life in the school ? 

9. What aspects of the social Hfe of the school can you distinguish 
aside from what may find expression in parties and other functions ? 

BIBLIOGRAPHY ON THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 

Allen, Chas. R. "Educational progress for 1907," topic, "A new 
educational process," S. Rev., 16 : 305. Recounts recent experi- 
ments in development of the social life of the school. 

"Educational progress in 1908," S. Rev., 17: 289. "It is plain 

that school methods may have much to do with the develop- 
ment of effective loyalty, and that group work has a permanent 
place in school procedure as a method directly preparing for social 
living." 

Bishop, J. R. "The high school as a social factor," iV. E. A., '97 : 694. 

Brown, J. F. The American High School, Chapter XI, "Social Life." 

BuRNHAM, W. H. "Everyday patriotism," Outlook, November 7, 
1908. An illustration of, and a plea for, a development of a civic 
and neighborhood spirit in a community as a base for a larger 
patriotism. Applies directly in school, 

Cronson, Bernard. Social value of the morning assembly to the 
school. See his Pupil Self-government, p. 58, New York, 1907. 

Cutler, J. E. "The social side of the public school," Char., 20 : 487, 

Dewey, J. The School and Society, pp. 2^-^!. Chicago, 1899. The 
school an embryonic society. 

"The significance of the School of Education," El. S. T., 4 : 441. 

1904. 

Dykema, Peter. "The school iesXxvdl,''^ Craftsman, 12:649. The 
festival a means of unifying the school and developing a 
higher social life, illustrated in the practical experiments of the 
Ethical Culture School. 

FiNDLAY, J, J. "The corporate life of the school," S. Rev., 15 : 144; 
16:601. Describes the EngHsh "house system" in the board- 
ing and in the day schools. Its moral and educational value. 



THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 289 

GiBBS, Louise R. "Making a high school a center of social life," 
S. Rev., 17 : 634. 

Gordon, M. K. "School athletics: what they are and what they 
should be," N. E. A., 1908, 616. 

Griggs, G. H, Moral Education, 77-83. New York, 1905. 

GuLiCK, L. H. "Team games and civic loyalty," S. Rev., 14:676. 
The opportunity afforded by interschool contests for develop- 
ment of loyalty, honesty, courtesy, spirit of fair play. 

Halleck, R. p. "The social side of secondary education," N. E. A., 
1902, 459. 

Harding, H. H. "Social needs of children," El. S. T., 4: 205. 

Heller, H. H. "The social life of the adolescent," Ed., 25 : 579. 

HoLLiSTER, Horace A. High School Administration, pp. 187-198. 
Boston, 1909. 

Howerth, I. W. "Education and the social ideal," Ed. Rev., 24: 

ISO- 
Johnson, F. W. "The social organization of the high school," S. 

Rev., 17 : 665. 1909. 

ELeeler, H. "The financial responsibility of high school managers of 
athletics," ^S. Rev., 11 : 316. 1903. 

Keller, P. G. "Open school organizations," S. Rev., 13:10-14. 
1905. Method of getting open organizations in place of secret 
ones; plan of six schools. 

KoHLSAAT, P. B. "Secondary school fraternities not a^ factor in 
determining scholarship," S. Rev., 13 : 272. 1905. 

Morrison, G. B. "Social ethics in high school life," 6*. Rev., 13 : 361- 
370. 1905. High school social functions, need of; teachers 
should be on same social status with pupil as parents; reasons 
for the fraternity. 

Nason, a. H. "The Cony High School Assembly. An unconscious 
experiment in citizenship," vS. Rev., 14 : 505. 1906. An assembly 
of high school students who administered the financial side of 
athletic and other school enterprises. 

Owen, W. B. "The problem of the high school fraternity," 5. Rev., 
14 : 492. 1906. Prevailing methods of dealing with, and their 
harmful results ; need of social functions in the school to supply 
the legitimate demand for social intercourse. 



290 



SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

"Social education through the school," S. Rev., 15 : 11-26. 1907. 

The school a society : what may be done to teach children social 
duties. The problem and a plan. 

Parlin, C. C. "An illustration of the management of athletics in 
the high school," S. Rev., 11 : 709. 1903. 

Reeder, Rudolph. How Two Hundred Children Live and Learn. 
Chapter V, "The School." New York, 1909. A fine illustration 
of corporate hfe developed in an institution. 

"Report of the Committee on the Influence of Fraternities in Secon- 
dary Schools," Questionaire, S. Rev., 12 : 2-3. 1904. Results 
of inquiry, S. Rev., 13 : i-io. 1905. A useful report. 

Parkinson, W. D. "Individuahty and social adjustment as means 
and ends in education," Ed. 29 : 16-24, One supplementary to 
the other. 

Scott, Colin A. Social Education, Chapter II. Boston, 1908. 

"Tests for the school." 
ScuDDER, M. T. "A study of high "school pupils," S. Rev., 7: 197. 

Sheldon, H.D. Student Life and Customs. New York, 1901. Deals 
with social activities of students in all ages. 

Stamper, Alva W. "The financial administration of student or- 
ganizations in secondary schools," S. Rev., 19 : 25. 

Stokes, J. G. P. "PubHc schools as social centers," An. Am. Acad., 
23 : 457. 1904. The need of developing the social nature of the 
child. 

Stowe, a. M. "The school club and its relation to several educa- 
tional ideals," El. S. T., 9 : 364. 1908. 

Tucker, 'W. J. "How shall pupils be taught to estimate themselves ? " 

S. Rev., 13 : 597. 
Tyler, J. M. "The boy and the girl in high school," Ed., 26: 462. 

"Washington decision on the high school fraternity," S. Rev., 14 : 731. 
1906. Supreme court of Washington sustained the Seattle 
board of education in excluding members of high school fraternities 
from all high school functions except classes. 

Wetzel, A. "High school student organizations," S. Rev., 13 : 429. 
1905. 



CHAPTER XVI 

DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 

Our Schools are Monarchies. — We live in a democracy. Our 
schools, therefore, should be democracies, but they are not. They are 
monarchies. The teacher is the monarch, the pupil the subject. 
Like the subjects of all monarchies they feel no responsibility for the 
order and conduct of the community in which they live. It is the duty 
of the ruler — the monarch — the teacher, to see that law and order 
are maintained ; that wrongs are righted in the community by those 
who belong to the " governing classes." Yet we call this fitting for 
citizenship in a democratic form of government ! Is it any wonder 
that we are beginning to feel that our schools are not doing their duty 
in this education, fitting for citizenship? If there is any excuse for 
public education at all, it is to fit pupils for these duties and responsi- 
bilities that are delegated to all the people in a democratic form of 
government. 

The schools of two hundred years ago, which are still the models for 
school governments, were the schools for the training of the individual 
for his own advantage — not for the good of the state. We have 
discarded the monarchical government of the nation for the demo- 
cratic, but we still cling to the old monarchical school government. . . . 

We have, it is true, modified its severity somewhat. The rod has 
been nearly or quite discarded. Moral suasion has taken a more 
prominent place, yet with all these changes it is still a monarchy. 
The future citizens of the republic — the pupils — have never been 
asked to begin here to learn their citizen duties. They grow up feel- 
ing that they have no duties beyond getting their lessons. The teacher 
is still responsible for conduct, for the restraining of the wayward or 
thoughtless, for the enforcement of rules and regulations that are for 
the good of all. 

All this should be radically changed. The pupils should be taught 
to participate in the government of the school as they afterwards must in 
the government of the community and state. The pupils should feel that 
they have a public duty in the school community as they will later have 
in the adult community. They should be carefully trained in school 
life to see their relations to law and order and their enforcement in 
the school, as they must later see them in adult life, if they do their 
duty as law-abiding and law-enforcing citizens. 

291 



292 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

This does not mean pupil government, hut pupils assisting in school 
government. It does not necessarily mean the substitution of some 
elaborate plan of " Pupil City " government, or any other form of 
the modern machinery of government. Indeed, the writer, after 
sixteen years of experimenting on the subject, believes that any such 
radical change will, in most cases, fail. What is needed is some simple 
plan that will have the minimum of the forms and oflEicers of modern 
city, state or nation as models for government, with a maximum of in- 
dividual education in the personal duties oj the public towards the control 
of himself and the school. 

Let the pupils be delegated such simple duties for the preservation 
of good order, honesty of work, and the general welfare of the school, 
as they are willing to assume. Let them be stimulated to exercise an 
influence for right conduct in others and be taught clearly to see how 
such conduct — good or had — does concern them, and that they should 
not he passively submissive or indifferent to wrong acts. Let them, above 
all, be taught to get control of themselves — to ''Do Right " without 
heing watched or told to do it. . . . 

In most schools the teacher stands alone as the representative of good 
conduct and order, and has arrayed against him all the vicious and 
bad element of the school. It is true, there is in every school an ele- 
ment which is neutral, pupils whose natural tendencies and train- 
ing lead them to do right, or to be disposed to do right. They are, 
however, not inclined to take sides. They are mere ''lookers-on in 
Venice." They are not led to believe that they have a duty or even 
a right to take sides in the never ending contest. They know that 
the teacher must have order and obedience if he properly conducts the 
school. They also feel a degree of sympathy and even admiration for 
the fellow-pupil who is disposed to have fun and to disobey the rules 
or quietly outwit or deceive the teacher. They even have quiet ad- 
miration for the boy or girl who has the " nerve " to disobey orders 
or to do disorderly and annoying things. When that bad boy expects 
them to hide from the teacher his misdeeds, they readily lend them- 
selves to their classmate's wishes. Thus it turns out that the pupils 
are, as a matter of fact, all arraigned against the teacher, the majority 
by remaining passive in their influence, and the remainder more or 
less active — openly or secretly — by doing disorderly, dishonest or 
annoying things. 

We say the government and order is more or less good, according 
as this neutral class is large or small in proportion to the active class. 
The teacher's ability to govern well is measurably his tact and firmness 
in keeping this actively bad class in reasonable subjection. As a rule 
he does it unaided by any sympathy or systematic assistance from the 
neutral class. . . . 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 293 

The Defect of Military Government. — No matter what guise it 
takes, it presupposes officers of some kind in authority, responsible 
for conduct, thinking for the student, watching the student. The 
pupil is no longer a free agent being taught to be responsible for his 
own acts. He is an automaton with only volition enough left in him 
to obey orders, to stop and start and step when told to and in unison 
with others. All responsibility for order, conduct and general move- 
ments rest on those in authority, whether these be members of the 
faculty or persons chosen from the body of the students. In such 
schools the " lock step " prevails, both in a physical and a mental sense. 
Individuality of thought and action and volition is lost. The re- 
sponsibility in all such military forms of control rests with the few, 
the teacher or officer ; the many — the masses — are left untrained 
in " the habit of responsibility " so essential to the true citizen. 

No amount of education or ordinary literary training will give this 
habit of personal self-control and the " habit of responsibility " in 
the control of others. It must be begun in youth, upon the child's 
entrance into the community life of the school. There let him be 
carefully trained to think and act for himself as freely as we expect 
him to do in his intellectual development. Let him have as few 
bosses over him, either pupils or teachers, as possible. Compel him 
to think and act for himself, and be responsible for his own acts in all 
his social relations with his schoolmates. Let not some one think 
and act for him, in things that he knows well he should do, or refrain 
from doing. Let him learn that liberty is not license. Let him learn 
during every day of his school life that he is responsible for his own 
conduct, no matter what his associates may do. Let him learn the 
habit in his school life of watching himself and his own conduct, not 
of being watched by others. 

He should early learn in his school life that he must guard his own 
right and privileges if he wishes to retain them and enjoy them. He 
must therefore learn to influence others to right conduct; learn to 
make others respect his rights by quiet moral suasion and not by 
physical force. Let him be taught clearly to see that each is affected 
by the conduct of others and that all are, therefore, equally interested 
in the deportment of others. 

The teacher shovild, as far as possible, throw upon the pupils the 
responsibility of regulating their own conduct without being con- 
tinuously watched by her. Especially should this be true during 
hours of relaxation outside of the room. Encourage the children to 
organize for their own protection. Let them elect such officers as may 
seem wise to assist in regulating and controlling the conduct of pupils. 
These officers should only assist, the responsibility rests upon all. 
These officers' duties should never partake of the military idea of com- 



294 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

manding or of relieving all others from the "habit of responsibil- 
ity." . . . 

Now, let us look at some of the things that are taught our children 
by our present way of governing and conducting schools. The little 
child comes to us ready to '' learn to do by doing." . . . He naturally 
wants to participate in regulating the conduct of others as it affects 
him. His natural instincts are to do right and to have others about 
him do right. 

The teacher, however, promptly tells him that what others do is no 
concern of his. He should do right himself, but not concern himself 
about what his neighbor does. He soon learns that it is the teacher's 
business to regulate the conduct of the school, not his. He must not 
even report it, — this would be " tattling," the capital sin in school 
life ; so the teacher teaches and the pupil believes. Soon he learns that 
there is no one responsible for good conduct and order but the teacher. 
He soon learns that he need fear no exposure of wrong acts from his 
fellow-schoolmates. They hide his misdeeds, and he must hide theirs. 
The teacher is the only one to be feared when misconduct takes place. 
All learn to keep their own counsel, hide and endure the misdeeds and 
impositions of their fellow-schoolmates and let the teacher govern 
the school in the best way he can. 

The good boy in this little monarchy must simply be a passive sub- 
ject of the monarch over him. He is neither asked nor allowed to 
help that monarch in the government, as he should be. 

Later, in the higher grades, he sees dishonesty in examinations and 
other irregularities of conduct, but it does not disturb his mind or con- 
science. His lesson of minding his own business and letting those in 
authority find these things out has been well learned. It will not only 
stay with him through the high school, but through life. He will not, 
as a pupil or a citizen, do wrong himself, but he has no duty now to 
the teacher, nor, later, to civic authority, to expose or suppress the mis- 
conduct of others. "It is none of my business what my neighbor 
does, " says the self-satisfied citizen who is the product of this train- 
ing in his school days. His civic conscience is dulled and warped in his 
school training. It never rights itself in after life. 

Can any one doubt for a moment that the man in after life gets his 
ideas of his duty to the community, and to those in authority, from 
the ideas taught him of his duty to the school community, and to the 
teacher representing authority? 

Will not the boy who cheats in examination make the man who 
will cheat the city on a street contract? Will not the boy who 
scorned to cheat in an examination himself, but sat by content to have 
his classmate cheat, develop into the self-righteous " good citizen " 
who takes no interest in having honest city ofiicers, and who laughs 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 295 

at the sharp city official who can line his pockets dishonestly? Will 
not the boy who openly does wrong before his schoolmates, expecting 
them to suppress it, make the brazen lawbreaker who defies public 
opinion and the law alike? 

Will not the young man who thinks it right not to tell on his school- 
mates, and who is allowed to believe so, make the future alderman 
who thinks it honorable to refuse to expose the briber who offered 
him a thousand dollars for his vote? In short, will not the man be 
what the boy was taught to be? Can the impure spring have 
flowing from it anything but an impure stream ? As the child's com- 
munity life is in school, so will be his civic life in after years. 

What should school life teach the boy? It should teach him that 
he is a part of the school community — responsible for its acts, and 
affected by every act of his schoolmates. He should, therefore, be 
taught that the Mosaic law, the English common law, and the statute 
law of his state make it the duty of every citizen to testify when called 
upon ; that hiding a crime makes him a party to it. He has, therefore, 
no right to set these principles aside in school life, either because of his 
own wishes, or the false idea of his teacher. He should be taught to 
see clearly that the restrictions placed upon his actions in school are 
due chiefly to the abuse of liberties by a few of his schoolmates, and 
he should, therefore, be directly interested in the conduct of these 
schoolmates. He should be taught to feel that the rightly disposed 
boys should assert themselves as positively and persistently for good 
conduct as the careless or indifferent boys do for evil. He should be 
made to feel that it is a duty to himself and to his school to assist in 
every way the securing of right conduct as faithfully as does his 
teacher. 

These habits, in school life, can be secured only by enlisting the pupil 
from the first year of school in taking an interest in the active govern- 
ment and control of the general conduct of his schoolmates in their 
common intercourse. . . . 

Organization. — All government requires some kind of organization. 
We believe, however, that it is a mistake, except, possibly, in high 
schools and colleges, to model the school government after the more 
complex form of city, state or nation. The mechanisms of school 
self-government should be very simple and direct. The government 
should be " by all, for all," — not by a set of officials, and the masses 
of the pupils excused from all responsibility. This is but shifting 
the responsibility from the teacher to a few pupils. The duty of 
assisting in governing the school rests alike on every one. The teacher 
and " tribunes " are but the responsible heads, to see that all partici- 
pate in the lesson of learning to live properly in this first community 
life — the school. The pupils, by thus regulating themselves through 



296 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

an officer of their own number, in time come to the habit of correcting 
most abuses among themselves without constantly seeking to invoke 
the higher power — the teacher. 

For the same reasons, written constitutions for the self-governing 
school, and elaborate details of rules, regulations and duties of officers 
or pupils are of little value. " Do right yourself, respect your neigh- 
bors' rights, and have an influence over others for right" is the key- 
note of any successful plan of pupil government. Around this central 
thought pupil government in a school can be successfully built up. 

Mode of Instituting. — A few practical suggestions as to the mode 
of instituting self-government of pupils will answer the questions of 
many. 

The less machinery about any such plan the better. It fails often 
in colleges and high schools because of the elaborate system established. 
In a primary or grammar school nothing of the kind can be success- 
fully used. The children are too young to either deliberate or legislate. 
The plan contemplates only the election of tribunes by ballot on the 
first of each month. This is in the hands of the teacher and is a formal 
affair every month. The teacher can make this hour the occasion 
for appointing other citizens, and discussing the general subject and 
the duties of the pupils. 

Many make the mistake of attempting to introduce pupil govern- 
ment at once, without properly preparing the pupils for it. This is a 
great mistake. Self-government must be a growth from within, not 
something imposed from without by the teacher. The plan must 
be a growth, and it takes time for all growth. The teacher can 
stimulate this growth by surrounding the pupil with the proper 
conditions. 

Discuss with the pupils the duties of good citizenship. To testify 
for the right; to discountenance wrongdoing; to influence wrong- 
doers to do right ; to promptly assist in exposing wrongdoing to the 
proper authority; if personal influence will not accomplish it, show 
them that this is the custom and practice in our courts. The position 
demanded by law of every citizen is : to testify ; to expose wrong ; to 
personally obey the law. 

The teacher's personality may be a large factor in preparing the 
pupils to take up the plan successfully. If the seventh and eighth 
grades take the right attitude, it is well to begin with these rooms. 
Their influence and example are the most potent, but the experience 
of some schools is, that these grades are the slowest to yield to the 
plan. Their habits are more fixed. The first and second grades will 
the most readily fall into the plan from habit. Do not make the 
mistake of exchanging the surveillance of the teacher for that of 
monitors or captains. If the pupils must still have some one to tell 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 297 

them what to do, and to watch them, it might as well be the teacher 
as a pupil. , . . 

Pupils' Cooperation in the High School Government. — [Where pupil 
cooperation in government in secondary schools has failed], the 
trouble is often over organization. We try to copy after the necessary 
complex forms of government of a municipality or a state, for example, 
and attempt to have their various departments represented in some 
way in the school. Besides the deliberative body, council or senate 
or whatever we call it, we feel that there must be a department of 
police, a department of health, a fire department, a judicial depart- 
ment, besides the necessary legislative and executive departments. 
Most of these are wholly unnecessary, useless and often burdensome 
upon the time of the pupils. . . . 

Again the responsible head of the institution or the teachers, having 
started the machinery of student government, get the idea that it 
will take care of itself, and leave it to the student body to manage. 
This will not do. The principal of a school that gets any such idea 
must either abandon the idea of student government or abandon the 
idea that he can turn all responsibility over to the students, and thus 
relieve himself of it. The student body must be held firmly to the 
belief that this form of government is adopted only for its educational 
value, not to let the burden fall upon the students and thus make the 
teacher's work lighter. So far as the teacher is concerned it should 
not be merely a shifting of responsibility and work of government to 
the students, but rather a shifting of the methods of government and 
methods of teaching right conduct. 

The teacher must constantly bring up before his students the prac- 
tical questions that arise day by day in the social intercourse of the 
students. He must carefully discuss with his students the reasons 
for following certain lines of conduct; for establishing and enforcing 
certain rules and the necessity for this or that habit among indi- 
viduals or in the school as a whole. He must have a watchful eye to 
every oflficer and see that he does his duty or is removed. He must 
privately suggest stricter attention to duty on the part of this oflScer, 
a less rigid and literal enforcement of regulations, to that one. He 
must quickly check by prompt advice to the students any tendencies in 
the wrong direction that the students, as a whole, seem to be falling 
into, whether these wrong tendencies be acts of omission or of com- 
mission. 

The teacher must ever remember that student government is still 
a school for teaching government as well as any other subject. He 
should, therefore, no more abandon the careful attention of teaching 
students to govern than he should abandon the teaching of history 
or mathematics. Let the teacher abandon the teaching of history 



298 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

and there will be no history class ; equally, let him wholly abandon 
giving attention to teaching participation in government, and soon 
there will be no student government. . . . 

Extracts from Democratic Government of Schools, by John Thompson Ray, 
Public School publishing Company, Bloomington, Ilhnois. 

Some Facts about Pupil Self-government 

After years of successful trial the pupil self-government plan of 
practical training in civics and ethics has passed beyond the experi- 
mental stage. It is employed in hundreds of schools in the United 
States to-day. Under various forms it is in operation in twelve 
schools in New York City. The principals who have undertaken to 
conduct their schools on this plan from the large idea of real, practical 
training for the development of moral character and good citizenship 
could not be persuaded to return to the old method of conducting a 
school. 

Mr. Andrew W. Scarlett, of the Oakwood Avenue School, Orange, 
New Jersey, who has conducted a system of pupil self-government 
for several years, says : " The results have been most gratifying. 
Briefly summarized they are: — 

" (i) A change in the attitude of pupils towards school authority. 
The new regime gives pupils an opportunity to cooperate with those 
responsible for the management of the school. 

'' (2) The pupils develop a strong desire to have things go right. 
The wrongdoer meets with indignation and discouragement from his 
fellow-pupils instead of sympathy and covert encouragement. 

" (3) Pupils learn to discriminate between tattling and giving 
testimony, between muckraking and a righteous exposure of a fraud. 

" (4) They learn that great lesson of democracy — that each one 
should be treated according to his own individual merits, paying no 
attention to his creed, to his ancestors, to his social position or finan- 
cial condition." 

Similar commendations from school authorities in Massachusetts, 
Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, 
Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, Wisconsin, Nebraska, Minnesota, Kansas, 
Utah, Arizona, California and Washington attest the success of the 
plan under the varying conditions of widely separated communities. 
In some of the schools the pupil-government system has been in opera- 
tion continuously for ten years, and the principals are unanimous as 
to its indispensability. 

The forms of pupil self-government are many, the principle one and 
the same. In some of the schools the organization takes the form of a 
pure democracy, in others that of a representative government \ the 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 299 

same spirit of self-reliance and responsibility for the common welfare 
that makes of school life an apprenticeship in good citizenship obtains 
in all. 

With an organization of pupil self-government in the school the 
academic work is not altered save in so far as the teachers' disciplinary- 
tasks are lightened, thereby making more effectual the teaching work. 
Emerson says, " We send our children to the master, but the boys edu- 
cate them." The underlying truth of this is becoming more apparent 
every day. The child is coming into his own. And so we have grow- 
ing up on all sides self-governing clubs, self-governing communities, 
self-governing institutions of children — all embodying the principles 
of democracy. The democratization of our schools is the need of the 
hour. Thomas Mott Osborne, a deep student of social questions, says : 
" We have as yet only just begun to develop the possibilities of democ- 
racy ; it remains to educate our citizens by applying the Democratic 
Principle to our school system (still dominated by aristocratic and 
paternalistic ideals — the ideals of outworn social systems) ; to apply 
the Democratic Principle to our factories and thus solve the labor 
problem; to apply the Democratic Principle to our prisons and reform 
our ignorant brethren who have failed to adapt themselves to society. 
And these events are not afar off — they are close at hand if we but will 
it so." 

It is an accepted principle of teaching that we learn to do by doing. 
This is the basic idea in empirical studies. The physics of the labora- 
tory is as important as the physics of the lecture hall. Drawing, 
carpentering and other useful things are taught by practical work. 
The world's work is thus actually begun in the school " shop " and in 
the school laboratory. Why not in the schoolroom ? 

How is it with civics ? — not long ago it was almost entirely con- 
fined to the hurrah of the school assembly and the celebration of 
national holidays, but as former Governor Hughes once said, " It is 
a very doubtful advantage to generate an emotion which has no 
practical use, and the emotions of patriotism ought to be stimulated 
with regard to certain important and practical ends." What doth it 
profit to sing the national airs, wave the Star Spangled Banner and 
laud the founders of the Republic if the children are not given an oppor- 
tunity to crystallize their patriotic emotions into actions of mutual 
forbearance, helpfulness and loyalty? Pupil self-government con- 
verts the children's Fourth of July emotions into everyday actions. 

Political developments in this country in recent years have made 
apparent the fact that the average citizen's sense of civic duty was at 
a very low ebb. Dishonesty in high places and low was laid bare in a 
wave of reform that spread over the land. Hardly a village escaped 
the prober's lance, and trickery and graft were uncovered everywhere 



300 



SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 



to the shame of the apathetic citizen. In the wake of such an upheaval 
there came a series of remedial propositions. Exposure and prose- 
cution reached only unfortunate individuals; it did not go deep enough 
to reach the underlying causes that made the deplorable conditions 
possible. The supine attitude of the citizens in a representative 
government is the occasion of civic sins. Eternal vigilance is the price 
of honest and efficient government. But a temporary wave of reform 
does not change the habits of a lifetime, and when the novelty of 
exposure ceases, the people at large relax into their former civic indif- 
ference. 

Students of social and political life are of one mind as to an effective 
remedy for the shortcomings of our body politic — only through the 
proper training of our youth can a lasting betterment of conditions 
be effected. 

Good citizenship is a moral attitude and springs from the mind and 
heart of a well-rounded moral being. No amount of intellectual 
training solely will warm the heart to a love of probity, or quicken it 
to a desire for " The righteousness that exalteth the nation." 

In that remarkable community of young citizens at Freeville, New 
York, the following episode, which illustrates that good citizenship is a 
moral and not an intellectual matter, took place : A good football player 
was unfortunate enough to be in the toils of the law on a day when 
his presence on the team was urgently needed ; a session of the Supreme 
Court was held to consider the advisability of his parole. Arguments 
pro and con were urged without conspicuous success until a public- 
spirited citizen thus summed up the situation. *' Your Honor," said 
he, " in most schools and colleges nowadays a fellow has to gain a 
certain standard of scholarship in order to be a member of any athletic 
team. Now, up here at the Junior Republic, our standard is citizen- 
ship, and if a fellow can't keep out of jail, he has no business to play 
on a football eleven." That settled the matter. He did not play. 
No amount of theoretical study of the ramifications of government 
could make possible such a reply ; it sprang from a heart filled with a 
profound sense of the dignity and sacredness of the rights and privi- 
leges of citizenship. 

It is such characters that are molded by giving children an oppor- 
tunity to conduct their own affairs, thus cultivating early in life a 
sense of the obligations of every man to his fellows. The principals 
in whose schools pupil self-government is a factor invariably point out 
that one of the chief results of the system is a strong spirit of coopera- 
tion. Thus is created a healthy pubhc opinion, ever ready to applaud 
everything that adds to or to frown upon everything that detracts 
from the honor of the school. 

The claim is not made that pupil self-government is a panacea for all 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 



301 



social ills, nor a plan by which all school problems are solved. It has 
its shortcomings and its dangers, and they are neither few nor trivial, 
neither are they insurmountable nor fatal. Wise, constant, discreet 
supervision is the guarantee, and the only guarantee of success in this 
work. But those who have been conducting their schools with this 
judicious participation in the children's efforts declare that the returns 
in moral and civic training splendidly justify the efforts put forth. 

The conspicuous success of pupil self-government in many places is 
proof beyond question that the principle is a sound one pedagogically. 
Is it not then inexcusable for public servants in the departments of 
education to dismiss the question after a superficial study of it with the 
verdict of "Impracticable," "Absurd," "Not worth while," "A 
beautiful dream, but an impossible proposition " ? The day is not far 
off when an awakened public will demand of its officials the introduc- 
tion of some system which will make effective the preparation for 
citizenship. . . . 

It may be well here to review the chief reasons why a plan of Public 
Self-government is not in operation in every school in this country. A 
careful study of the situation has disclosed the following difficulties : — 

(A) The principal and other supervisors are so harassed by a 
multitude of minor obligations that they feel that the time cannot be 
spared for the organization and direction of a pupil community. 

(B) An equally formidable difficulty is the fact that with the present 
overloaded curricula teachers are strongly averse to the idea of adding 
anything to their burdens. 

(C) The third difficulty of importance is an ill-founded antipathy 
towards the " School City " and kindred ideas. 

But these, after all, are difficulties, and as such exist only to be over- 
come. 

(a) Was it ever intended that the principal of a school should be a 
mere clerk ? Yet how many there are whose sole business seems to be 
the adjustment and keeping of records. Should not the principal be 
the intellectual and moral leader of the school ? 

(b) Pupil self-government has but little to do with the curriculum 
of study. It is concerned rather with the relations of the children 
towards one another and towards the school authorities. Experience 
with the plan has proved that it so lessens the out-of-class work of the 
teachers that they can do more effective teaching work than under 
the old system of school government. 

(c) The unpopularity of the School City is as regrettable as it is 
unjustified. In Philadelphia it was done to death by that arch enemy 
of education, politics. Where it has ceased to be a part of the school 
life elsewhere it has been generally due to a change among those 
having authority. 



302 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

We come now to the objections to pupil self-government. These 
were gathered in a canvass of two hundred schools of the metropolitan 
district. The answers to them are supplied by a New York City 
principal who has conducted his school on the plan for seven terms. 

(i) Pupil self-government calls for a mental development that 
children do not possess. Neither is it desirable that children should 
become " Legislative, Judicial and Executive." We want to keep 
them young as long as we can. 

(i^) We have found the pupils of the sixth, seventh and eighth 
years, adequately and normally developed, able to conduct their own 
affairs — under discreet supervision. As for the contention that 
self-government induces precocity, it is unfounded. The children, 
both officers and citizens, are thoroughly normal, healthy and sport- 
loving Young Americans. 

(2) It takes up too much time. 

(2 A) The actual time consumed by the formal side of the School 
Republic is ten minutes for election at the beginning of the school term 
and the time of three teachers per week for an hour after school ; the 
latter a voluntary work of the teachers. 

(3) Children, when vested with power, become arrogant. 

(3^1) Seven terms of pupil self-government have failed to bring 
forth a domineering state official. 

(4) If men cannot successfully govern themselves, how can children? 
(4^1) No amount of priori reasoning can argue away the fact that 

children do govern themselves relatively well. May it not be one of 
the contributory causes of the shortcomings of our democracy that as 
children our people were not effectively trained for participation in 
civic life? Are we not now paying the price of the despotic school- 
master rule of the old days? What preparation for living in a democ- 
racy was so ill-designed as the none too benevolent despotism of the 
birch-rod master ? And even under the present system of textbook 
civics, what actual preparation is there for a life as a citizen ? _ The 
science of number is taught by the use of numbers ; physical training 
is carried out by a scientifically developed course of physical exercises ; 
drawing is drawing, and nature study is pursued largely by a first- 
hand study of objects, but civics takes its place with astronomy in 
that it deals with things remote. The vitalization of civics calls for 
some mode of pupil self-government. 

(5) In the last analysis the supervision necessary makes mere 
puppets of the children. 

(5^) Not a fact. Judicious supervision exercised along the lines of 
friendly control without dictation serves the twofold purpose of foster- 
ing initiative and preventing the children from attempting too much. 

(6) The machinery is so elaborate that the purpose is destroyed. 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 303 

(6^) Yes, if the machinery is so elaborate, but it need not be, and 
it is not. Elaborate systems fall to the ground of their own weight. 
The best results are obtained along the simplest lines. 

(7) The energy expended is not worth while. 

(7^) If a wealth of school spirit and a splendid cooperative attitude 
on the part of teachers and pupils is not worth while, is anything in 
this world worth while? 

(8) Pupil self-government is simply for show; it cannot take care 
of those serious cases, e.g. thievery, etc., which come up in every 
school. 

(8^) This objection supposes that the entire government of the 
school is in the hands of the pupils. Rather is pupil government an 
auxiliary of the regularly constituted school regimen and makes the 
handling of untoward events a simpler procedure than usual. 

(9) The children of our day are more in need of respect for authority 
than the exercise of it. 

(9^) Why? The children of our day have been quickened by the 
inquiring spirit of our times and are quick to detect the shallowness of 
the autocratic system. But where they are trained to a rational 
respect for authority through a realization of the necessity and the 
participation in the exercise of it, their respect and loyalty becomes 
unshakable. 

(10) In the economic conditions under which we live, our children 
need all of the knowledge that they can get, to prepare for the struggle 
for existence. 

(lo^l) The economic conditions under which we live are extremely 
trying, because we have let slip from our grasp the power that right- 
fully belongs to us. The fundamental remedy is to teach our children 
the value of working together, reclaiming that power and reestablish- 
ing the conditions of true democracy. 

(11) Pupil self-government destroys one of the greatest influences 
of the school, i.e. the principal's and teachers' personal influences. 

(11^) Through seven terms the principal and teachers and pupils 
have been brought constantly into closer and more efiScient coopera- 
tion. 

(12) The activities of pupil self-government are mere play and are 
recognized as such by the pupils. 

{i2A) Even if it is pleasurable, it is real play. The pupils con- 
sciously imitate the procedure of enlightened citizens, but find great 
enjoyment in it. Therein is its great value. They play, they learn, 
they develop, they prepare. What more can one ask of an educational 
device than that it molds character effectively and joyfully? 

From a free bulletin of the School Citizen's Committee, by Richard Welling, No. 2 ; 
Wall Street, New York. 



304 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Comment on Pupil Cooperation in School Government 

Our study of " primary groups " and particularly of the social life 
of the school furnishes the point of view from which to understand 
the nature and value of pupil self-government or pupil cooperation 
in government. The problem of managing a school is intimately 
connected with the fact that it has a corporate life. Government is 
always a social affair; that is, it always involves some sort of inter- 
actions between people, whether in a gang, a club, a school or a state. 
This is true even in those schools in which the teachers are autocratic 
rulers and the pupils obey, not as free agents, but because they must. 
It is even more thoroughly a social matter in a school with a normal, 
well-developed corporate life. In the former type of school the system 
of control is external; it is thrust upon the pupils from without. In 
the latter the control is internal; that is, it is one of the natural ex- 
pressions of the school's corporate life. 

As we have seen, all social groups exercise quite naturally and neces- 
sarily a definite control over the individuals within them, and they 
possess in some form or other what may be called an instinct or pos- 
sibly an ideal of lawfulness. Without some authority over the in- 
dividual and without some capacity to harmonize diverse interests, 
the group would soon cease to exist. Control and lawfulness in some 
form are basic presuppositions for all social life. Even the worst 
school, then, has at least the raw material for the higher organic type 
of social control. In such a school, the ideal of lawfulness is present, 
even though it may not be exercised for the highest good of the school. 
Likewise the conduct of each individual pupil is controlled in certain 
definite ways by the group in which he moves, notwithstanding the 
conduct thus produced may be far other than that most desired by 
the teacher. It is the fact, however, that there is a social control and 
a sense of justice, even though exercised on low levels, that has ren- 
dered possible the development, sometimes under most unpromising 
conditions, of student participation in school government. 

The arguments for, and illustrations of, pupil cooperation in gov- 
ernment are clearly stated in the quoted papers. It will be sufficient in 
this summary to emphasize certain underlying principles. There are 
two main reasons for such cooperation : First, it is for the good of 
the school as a whole, because the government thus secured is usually 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 305 

better than that secured through the old monarchical system. It taps 
reserve springs of control of whose existence the autocratic teacher 
does not dream. Cronson says of one such democratically governed 
school, " The most striking thing about this school is the prevailing 
attitude of geniality and contented industry which seemed to fill the 
dingy old building from top to bottom." ^ In two districts of New 
York City where this type of government has been in vogue, it is stated 
that suspensions of pupils for misconduct have not been found neces- 
sary for several years.^ In another New York City school the prin- 
cipal reports : " Under the plan in operation here each child feels 
a responsibility in the common welfare and a pride in the general 
progress of the pupil community. We have found also that the ele- 
ment of conflict between teacher and pupil — once thought to be an 
inevitable part of school life — has been almost entirely eliminated, 
and in its place has been established the spirit of cooperation. . . . 
The sense of common ownership of school property and individual 
responsibility for its protection is one of the logical developments of 
our pupil self-government.^ In the second place, this form of govern- 
ment is most important for the pupils individually. Each one needs 
as a part of his education for future citizenship just the training that 
comes from genuine participation in a healthful corporate life with its 
varied social responsibilities. The development of character in the 
individual child is intimately connected with his social relationships. 
The control exercised by a group over the conduct of the persons com- 
posing it, to which reference has just been made, may have a very 
vital influence upon the development of character. Of course, in its 
baser forms as seen in the mob, the person is completely subordinated 
to the will of the mass. This can scarcely make for the betterment of 
the individual. But in its higher forms, group control becomes a 
great character-forming agency. In the school the power of public 
opinion to restrain the individual from wrongdoing and to punish 
him in case he has offended is much greater and more effective than 
that possessed by any teacher or superintendent. The books of Dr. 
Reeder and Mr. George give striking illustrations of this.^ 

J Pupil Self-government, p. 57. ^ Report of the City Superintendent of Schools, 1910. 

' Public School No. no, Manhattan, Miss Adeline Simpson, Principal. 
* How Two Hundred Children Live and Learn and The Junior Republic. 
X 



3o6 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

That a school group does thus exercise a certain amount of control 
over each separate pupil is the best answer to those who contend that 
childhood and early youth are incapable of self-government, that 
those are periods of unquestioning obedience, of subjection to author- 
ity. As is made clear in the quoted articles, pupil cooperation in 
government does not mean the abdication of the teacher and the plac- 
ing of full responsibility upon the children ; it means rather utilizing, 
as far as it is available, the group control, instead of letting it develop 
along lines antagonistic to good order. It means giving the pupils 
such responsibility as they are able to carry, instead of giving them 
none at all. That the teacher or principal has final authority does not 
mean that the pupil cooperation is make-believe any more than a 
president with veto power is inconsistent with a democratic form of 
national government. The teachers must be genuine factors in the 
school group, sharing in its life and contributing their part toward 
making it what it is. Their part may be a preponderant one, but it 
need not rob the pupils of vital responsibility. It is a factor in char- 
acter development because it makes the pupils conscious of the prob- 
lems of conduct and demands of them the exercise of initiative and 
choice rather than dependence upon the decision of another. Unless 
such things are raised to the level of consciousness and made subjects 
of reflection, they do not become means of real growth in boys and girls. 
Proper ideals of conduct can be developed only through daily practice 
in evaluating acts and in choosing one thing rather than another. A 
pupil trained in the monarchical type of school may acquire excellent 
habits of conduct, but more than likely he will have done so little in- 
dependent thinking and choosing that when he leaves school he will be 
unable to carry them over and adapt them to the needs of his adult 
life. In a school, on the other hand, which affords participation in the 
problems of government, the pupil not only acquires good habits, but 
also right ideals of life, and these he is much more likely to carry away 
with him from the school, and much more likely is it that he will pre- 
serve them as vital principles of conduct when he enters adult society. 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 307 

BIBLIOGRAPHY ON PUPIL PARTICIPATION IN SCHOOL 

GOVERNMENT 

Bagley, W. C. Classroom Management, pp. 290-298. A brief de- 
scription, a note of warning, advantages, Charter of the Arsenal 
School City, Hartford, Connecticut. 

Brewer, J. M. "Plans for student cooperation in school govern- 
ment," Ed. Rev., 37 : 519-525. 1909. Reports some personal ob- 
servations and gives plans for introduction of. 

Brown, J. F. The American High School, 297-301. Brief comment 
upon different types of school government. 

Buck, Winifred. Boys' Self-governing Clubs. New York, 1903. 
Affords many illustrations of the controlHng power of corporate 
hfe. 

BusHNELL, C. J. "Hiram House Social Settlement," World To-day^ 
12:532-535. 1907. The plan and working of a juvenile city. 
Too much evidence of adult authority. 

Call, A. D. "Government in school and college," Ed., 27 : 253-341. 

Clapp, H. L. "Self-government in public schools," Ed., 29:335- 
344. 1909. Devoted to arguments against ; picks out extreme 
cases of laxity ; points worth considering. 

Cornman. N. E. a., 1908, 290. A criticism. 

Cronson. Pupil self-government, its theory and practice. New York, 
1907. Best extended discussion of principles and methods. 

Dewey, J. "Teaching ethics in the high school," Ed. Rev., 6:313. 

FiSKE, George W. Boy Life and Self-Government, Y. M. C. A. Press. 
19 10. Confined to boys' clubs under auspices of the Association. 

Foerster. Schule und Character, 219-233. 

French, C. W. "School government," S. Rev., 6:35. 1898. An 
enlightening article based on experience, giving ; objects of school 
city ; nature of organization ; results of experiments and con- 
clusions. 

"Problems of school government," S. Rev., 8 : 201. Reason for, 

and importance of, self-government. Will make schools more 
tr\ily American; will develop social life; will afford basis for 
moral instruction by teaching purpose of law and its relation to 
will of individual. 

"School cityidea," S. Rev., 13 : 33-41. 1905. Reasons for failure 

in some places ; aims to develop a working knowledge of practical 



3o8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

politics ; obligations of individual to society ; personal righteous- 
ness. AH these things actually accomplished. 

FiNDLAY, J. J. "The corporate Ufe of school," 5*. Rev., 15 : 744-753 ; 
16 : 601-608. Opportunities for pupil participation in govern- 
ment offered by the English "house system." 

George, W. The Junior Republic. Many fine illustrations of the 
restraining power of group life, especially of one's peers. 

GuNCKEL, J. Boyville. Fine illustrations of the character-forming 
power of healthy public opinion. 

HoLLiSTER, H. High School Administration, 198-200. Two illustra- 
tions of successful self-government. 

Leland, A. "Self-government in a Junior Republic," Char., 13 : 36. 

McAndrew, W. a. "High school self-government," S. Rev., 5 : 456- 
460. Scheme once in vogue in Pratt Institute High School. 

Mackenzie, J. C. "Honor in student life," S. Rev., 7:69. Dis- 
cusses ethics of students' concealing the misconduct of fellow 
students. 

Maxwell, Wm. Annual Reports of the New York City Schools, espe- 
cially for years 1905, 1906, 1910. Recommends school city idea 
and reports progress of scheme in various schools of city. 

Nason, a. N. "The Cony High School Assembly: an imconscious 
experiment in training for citizenship," 5'. Rev., 14 : 505. Refers 
to power of student body to control and administer for good of 
school the finances of certain student organizations. 

O'Shea, M. V. Social Development and Education, Chapter XIII, 
"Cooperation in group education." 

Perry. The Management of a City School, 283-290. A practical dis- 
cussion and working suggestions. 

Philips, W. L. "Pupil cooperation in school government," Ed., 
22:538-554. An epitome of history of movement; some testi- 
monials given. 

Puffer. "Boys' gangs," Fed. S., 12: 175-212. An empirical study 
throwing fight on problems of corporate control. 

PuGSLEY, F. L. " Control over school children by school authorities," 
Ed., 28 : 265. 

Ray, John T. Democratic Government of our Schools. 1899. (Pam- 
phlet.) Vide preceding quotations from. 

Reeder, Rudolph. How Two Hundred Children Live and Learn, 
Chapters VI, VII. Controlling power of the opinion of one's peers. 



DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT OF SCHOOLS 309 

Report of Commissioner of Education, 1902, 1:235. "Educational 
pathology or self-government in school." 

Robinson, L. V. "City of Hawthorne," Char., 15:182. Self- 
government on a playground; children elect officers, make laws 
and punish lawbreakers. 

Sadler, M. Moral Instruction and Training in Schools. Suggestions 
as to status of self-government in England. 

Smith, B. N. " Self-government in pubHc schools," Atlantic, 102 : 675. 

Stowe, Lyman Beecher. "School Republics," Outlook, 90:339- 

348. A valuable description of actual working of, in certain New 

York schools. 

Thurber, C. N. "High school self-government," S. Rev., 5:32-35, 
An early account. 

Walker, P. A. "Self-government in the high school," El. S. T., 

7 : 451-457. 1907- 
Welling, Richard. Some Facts about Pupil Self-government. Free 

pamphlet, published by the School Citizens' Committee, 2 Wall 

Street, New York City. The best summary available ; avowedly 

a propaganda. 

Yendes, L. a. "School children who govern themselves," Chaut., 
30: 135. First experiment of the sort; serious government, not 
a mimic affair. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE PERSONAL FACTOR IN THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 

Personal Influence and Leadership 

In our study of group, or corporate, activities, we have as yet not 
specifically raised the question as to whether they are shaped and 
directed in any great degree by single individuals. The question here 
involved is the large one of the place of the person in the social process. 
Is the apparently dominant individual really an important factor in 
determining a course of events, or is his seeming control over them an 
illusion, he being borne along in a current over which he has little or no 
control? Views quite the opposite of each other have been held by 
social philosophers. Carlyle, for instance, considered the great man 
as of supreme importance in history. His Heroes and Hero-Worship 
is a eulogy upon the part played by a commanding personality in 
shaping the course of human events. Tolstoy, on the other hand, held 
that the so-called great man is little more than a puppet pushed for- 
ward by happenings over which he really has no control.^ An induc- 
tive study of social psychology, and of primary groups in particular, 
makes it clear that neither of these views is wholly correct. Every 
individual in a social group both influences the behavior of his fellows, 
and is in turn influenced by them. Each person adds something to 
the common life and takes something from it. The amounts received 
and taken are not fixed, but vary with time, place, and individual. A 
single person may exert a great influence in the life of a limited group, 
for example, in a family, a neighborhood or a school, but his definite 
contribution to the course of events in the great world without is very 
much less. In relatively restricted circles personal ascendency and 
influence are very real forces, and must be reckoned with. What 
Carlyle has to say of the hero is quite true within primary groups ; 
beyond these narrow circles it has a rapidly diminishing significance. 

1 War and Peace, Vol. IV. 
310 



PERSONAL FACTOR IN SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 311 

But even though Tolstoy may have been correct in holding that 
the great national hero has little to do with shaping the happenings 
with which he is associated, the problem of personal ascendency and 
leadership is not less real or important. The larger movements of 
society are made up in part of the smaller movements of the subordi- 
nate groups, so that history in the end may be regarded as the resultant 
of the influence of the dominant individuals of these elementary so- 
cial bodies. Moreover, the problem of personal ascendency is particu- 
larly important in a social view of education, because the educative 
process itself is actually a primary group process. Whatever may be 
the influence of the single individual in the world at large, he is ca- 
pable of being a vital factor in the corporate life and corporate activity 
of the school. 

First of all, let us note how personal ascendency or leadership is of 
importance within the smaller social circles. As has been suggested, 
the dominant individual, or leader, is nearly always present in the 
family, in the neighborhood, on the playground, in the gang and in 
the club. The realization, within these groups, of the ideals of justice, 
of fair play, of lawfulness, requires either temporary or permanent 
ascendency of a few individuals. The very fact of intimate face-to- 
face association carries with it the need of a certain amount of control 
of the individuals concerned. The group as a whole always exercises 
some restraining influence upon the individual member, but this social 
will is apt, at times, to find expression through a single person who 
stands in a measure for the rest. The presence within the group of 
such a lawgiver is not of necessity inconsistent with a natural, spon- 
taneous corporate life. In fact, it is often the leader who makes this 
life possible. If each one did exactly as he pleased, the conflict of 
impulses would almost certainly break up the group. 

Leadership is, of course, natural and welcome in proportion as the 
leader is a genuine member of the circle, for in that case the control 
which he may exercise is recognized as an expression of the animating 
spirit of the group, a control coming from within and not imposed upon 
it from without. Lawgiving is easy when the one in authority has 
the confidence of those controlled, and this he can have only as he is 
in some sense one of them. The promoters of the modern playground 
movement find that it is of the first importance that a playground should 



312 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

have a director. There must be some one to interpret and focalize the 
best impulses of the children, to start the games, to keep the strong 
from imposing on the weak, and to see that each child has his proper 
turn. It has been found that the children as a whole not only need, 
but desire, such a leader. He is in no sense a despot ; on the contrary, 
if he is successful, he is quite truly an organic part of the corporate 
life of the playground. He helps the play group to realize in fact 
the desire for lawfulness and fair play which is already there impHc- 
itly. Playground leadership, then, is clearly not inconsistent with 
the spontaneity and joyousness that must be in all real play. In 
fact, this is essential to its fullest realization. 

It is evident that the leader is a genuine social product. As a gen- 
eral principle, it may be said that whenever people assemble with the 
slightest commonalty of purpose, a more or less temporary leader 
develops. The conditions which tend to give to some individual this 
prestige or ascendency furnish an interesting field for inductive study. 
Specifically, the problem is this: What serves to constitute a leader 
in any group and particularly in the school group, and of what signifi- 
cance for the hfe of the school and for its work are the phenomena of 
leadership ? 

As for underlying principles, it may be said that they are both bio- 
logical and psychical. The survival and development of most forms 
of animal life depend upon some sort of unified or cooperative activity. 
A class of animals, the individuals of which possess little or no capacity 
for acting in cooperation with others of their kind, is at a distinct 
disadvantage which must be offset by some other qualities if the species 
hold its own. Thus a nongregarious type may survive by having 
unusual reproductive powers or extraordinary fighting or defensive 
capacities. 

Among all types of animals, including, of course, the human species, 
which have developed some sort of group life, whether for protection 
against foes or for securing of food, some one individual must almost 
of necessity take the lead, or set the pace or the pattern for the rest. 
Only thus could there be a high degree of unified, and hence effective, 
action. This primitive biological need is sufficient to account for 
the instinctive way in which a group of animals or of men, particularly 
in times of stress, will accept the guidance of some one of their number. 



PERSONAL FACTOR IN SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 313 

This biological need is, also, responsible in part for the development 
of certain psychical characteristics in social animals, such as imitative- 
ness and suggestibihty. In man especially the tendency to imitate 
the action of others is a highly important factor in binding a httle 
group together and securing unity of action. While imitativeness 
and openness to suggestion are the conditions which produce personal 
ascendency, it is clear that to some extent the needed unity in a social 
group may occur without definite leaders. In fact, in all stages of 
human development there is a substratum of corporate life and com- 
monalty of action depending upon the mere tendency of the members 
of a society, standing upon a common level, to imitate and take sug- 
gestions from one another. But a high degree of unity and organiza- 
tion of forces is not possible unless some one person acquires sufficient 
prestige to command the attention of his fellows. In that case his 
action becomes a copy for the rest to follow. It is not necessary that 
the copy thus set be of superior merit, that is, better than what any 
one else might have done. Its value rests primarily upon the fact 
that it focahzes attention upon some one mode of procedure. This 
of itself makes for definiteness, and hence for efficiency of action. 

If it be granted, then, that the leader is a socially important factor, 
the question next arises, what gives him his prestige? Are the quali- 
ties which enable an individual to rise above his fellows and set the 
pattern for their behavior capable of being determined? In general 
terms, they are nothing more nor less than capacity readily to attract 
and hold attention. This power may, and often does, have no intrin- 
sic relationship to the particular line in which the person acts as a 
leader. It may be merely sufficient for him to catch the attention of 
his fellows to render everything that he does of importance. On the 
other hand, the leader may actually have such personal power as to 
make him the natural leader of his group. 

In attempting to determine the qualities which give the individual 
prestige and power over his fellows, it is worth while to keep in mind 
that there are two types of conditions, — the extrinsic and the in- 
trinsic, or, as LeBon has it, the artificial conditions and the personal 
ones. Both types are means of attracting attention, and in actual 
life they combine in intricate ways. Even the true leader of men is 
not altogether independent of those accidents of position and circum- 



314 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

stance which, though subordinate and accessory, are nevertheless often 
real factors in giving him prestige. 

A few illustrations will perhaps render the above distinction clearer, 
and may perhaps help us better to understand the place and meaning 
of the leader in the corporate Kfe of the school. Among the lower ani- 
mals and, to a large extent, among primitive peoples, mere physical 
size, physical aggressiveness or prowess, are important elements in 
giving an individual prestige, and these characteristics are not without 
importance as accessories even among the cultured races. These 
qualities are first of all significant because they attract attention, fix 
the mind of the group upon their possessor, and hence tend to make 
anything he does or says seem of unusual importance. Prestige, 
however, unless it is based, in part at least, upon mental ability, that 
is, upon intrinsic qualities, will usually be quite short-Hved. It will 
be remembered that Saul, the first king of Israel, stood head and 
shoulders above his fellows. Samson was reputed to have been the 
strongest man of his generation, and on this depended his prestige. 
The crafty Odysseus is an illustration of one whose prestige de- 
pended on a certain mental superiority. There have been studies in 
the origin of leadership among primitive peoples, but none of them 
can carry us back of these elemental physical and mental qualities 
which enable a man to do something that may help or hurt his fellows, 
hence something which they fear or admire. 

An interesting illustration is furnished by certian Indian tribes 
which have no chiefs except in time of a great hunt or a war. Then 
the strongest, most successful hunter or the most intrepid fighter al- 
most automatically becomes the leader. As soon as the need or the 
crisis has passed, he drops back into the common ranks. Among some 
primitive but less warlike races, prestige may depend in part upon 
property or upon the reputed possession of some mysterious or magic 
power. This explains the power of the medicine man and the prophet. 
Among some of the Australians there are no chieftains other than 
the old men, and among the old men the oldest has the greatest au- 
thority. But here, as elsewhere, mental qualities play an important 
role. LeBon instances name, social station, uniforms and wigs, as 
among the accessory or accidental elements of Ufe which give one at 
least a temporary advantage over one's fellow men. " The burning 



PERSONAL FACTOR IN SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 315 

black eyes " of Mohammed have been mentioned as contributing to 
his power. 

The great leader adds power of personality to these external ad- 
vantages, a quality which one may attempt to describe by certain 
adjectives, but which is after all indefinable. Sometimes it seems to 
consist largely in unwavering self-confidence, an attitude which, if 
properly balanced, creates in others the attitude of expectation and 
readiness to take suggestions. If one can add to his self-confidence, 
forcefulness and definiteness in word and action, courage, dignity, 
winning power, his capacity to lead is still further enhanced. These 
quahties help in various ways to gain and hold the attention of his 
fellows. They might be summarized by the characterization of the 
leader as strongly afiirmative in his attitude. He is resourceful and 
positive rather than critical or negative. 

The power of a definite afiirmation over men's minds is well known. 
A simple afiirmation is easily grasped, in external form at least, and, 
whether thoroughly understood or not, may act as a powerful sugges- 
tion for shaping conduct in a particular way. The critical faculty 
is not highly developed in the average adult, and certainly not in chil- 
dren. Hence when the reasons for action begin to be discussed, and 
even a desirable procedure is subjected to analysis and criticism, it often 
loses its hold on people's minds. 

The man who leads his fellows is, then, one who has a clear vision 
of something definite to be done — is able to give a few good reasons 
for doing it, and rests content with keeping these persistently in the 
attention of his group. To attempt to give more elaborate or deep- 
seated reasons or to discuss possible objections, serves only to confuse 
people and destroy their confidence in the plan's feasibility. It fol- 
lows that those who are preeminent in intellectual lines alone cannot 
expect to have a wide following, partly for the reason that their minds 
are too analytic, and partly, also, because their peculiar ability does 
not appeal to the popular imagination. A Newton or a Galileo, even 
though their final influence on human progress may be great, cannot 
even yet gain that immediate power over their fellows that comes so 
readily to a man of action. When a scholar does gain ready accept- 
ance as a national hero, it is usually because he has done something 
which has attracted attention in a large way. Thus, in France, some 



3i6 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

years ago a vote, which was supposed to be representative, was taken 
to determine who, in the popular mind, was the greatest Frenchman 
of the nineteenth century. Pasteur outranked all others. But it was 
scarcely his abiUty as an abstract scientist that gave him this prestige, — 
rather the fact that he had, in his discovery of a cure for hydrophobia, 
for the silkworm disease and for anthrax, rendered great social services 
readily comprehended and appreciated by the masses of his coimtry- 
men. A thoroughly competent and scholarly man, unless he has done 
something spectacular, can with difficulty secure election to an im- 
portant office in a democracy. 

In the preceding discussion we have shown that the power of the 
leader depends on his ability to command attention and inspire con- 
fidence. This is the fimdamental condition even in the case of highly 
complex social groups, and, difficult as the problem seems of fusing 
diverse impulses and bringing them into effective action, it may often 
be accomplished in quite simple ways. The power of the leader often 
consists not so much in the elaborateness of the means he uses, but 
upon the insight which enables him to diagnose the situation and make 
use of relatively simple expedients. 

The social effectiveness of a person is measured by his ability to 
liberate and coordinate the greatest amount of useful energy in those 
among whom he moves. The mere fact that a man gains power over 
his fellows through means that are gross and primitive is not of itself 
sufficient to condemn him. He may thereby Uberate the maximum 
of energy in his fellows and actually lead them to the accomplishment 
of a worthy end. The real difficulty, for instance, with mere brute 
aggressiveness is that it is more than Hkely not effective in any genuine 
sense. A group of people may seem to be led for a time, may appear 
to be unified and effective, but as a matter of fact their best energies 
are not called into play nor their real purposes accomplished. They 
are rather dominated by an overbearing will, and, instead of realizing 
their own purposes fully, they become subordinated to the selfish 
purposes of the leader. Under such circumstances the energies of a 
body of people may be said to be exploited by the leader for his own 
aggrandizement. The power of Napoleon over France was of this 
sort. In no sense could he be said to have aroused or enlisted the true 
genius of the nation. He did not interpret his people, but seized upon 



PERSONAL FACTOR IN SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 317 

certain isolated brute impulses and exploited them for his own selfish 
ends. 

Any and all of the means which tend to give a man prestige and 
power over his fellows are to be condemned if they are not used for 
social ends, if they are not used to help the group to do more effectively 
that which it was already striving bUndly to accomplish. The true 
leader must be an interpreter of his group, one who helps it to a fuller 
reahzation of the best qualities implicit within it. This does not mean 
that he should be a mere time server, simply giving his followers what 
they think they want. It is too often that political leaders do not 
rise above such a plane of service as this. The true leader sees deeper 
than the popvdar cry and tries to bring to bear the awakened energies of 
his group upon that which is as yet only imperfectly realized, that which 
is still formless and incoherent, but which his insight tells him is the true, 
imderlying self struggUng for expression. The great leader thus stands 
ahead of his people and is yet in vital sympathetic relation with them. 

These fundamental principles of personal ascendency have a practi- 
cal bearing upon almost every phase of human life, and certainly upon 
the corporate life of the school. Not only do the phenomena of lead- 
ership find interesting illustration in this miniature society, they are 
of great significance, also, for the proper understanding and control of 
the educational process which the school is supposed to direct. Among 
the pupils themselves it is inevitable that there should be some with 
more influence than others. The teacher, also, by sheer virtue of his 
position and seniority, has presumably some ascendency, and the school 
could hardly be called a successful one in which the teacher is not in 
actuality a genuine leader of his boys and girls. 

The same qualities which attract attention and give prestige in 
adult society are operative in the school, with perhaps greater em- 
phasis upon those of the more primitive type. At least this is the 
case if the school society is allowed to take care of itself. In the aver- 
age school the pupil of fine or strong physical appearance and of ag- 
gressive social temperament is quite apt to gain a decided power over 
his fellows and to determine in large measure what they shall think 
and do. One of the practical and serious problems of education is 
that of recognizing and utilizing to the best advantage this personal 
element which is so inevitably involved in the educative process. 



3i8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

When a school first assembles, certain pupils will quickly and natu- 
rally take the lead of their fellows ; some one or more will dominate 
the whole school group; others will dominate the lesser groups of 
classes and cliques. If the children are largely unknown to each other, 
these first leaders will gain their power through the grosser, more 
striking, qualities which have the power to excite ready attention, such 
as strong physical presence or social aggressiveness, — braggadocio, 
clothes or some other physical possession. The general behavior of 
these pupils, their opinions, attitude toward the school work and sports, 
will be spontaneously imitated by the rest of the school. 

As the school group becomes more thoroughly acquainted, there 
may be a shifting of the dominant persons. Those who first gained 
prestige must make good, or they will not keep their following. To 
make good requires that they should have ability that is real, even 
though not of the finest type. The boy must be really strong, really 
able to put up a skillful fight, accomplished in some sport as ball, 
marbles or jumping, or, as some have expressed it, able to show his 
companions how to do something which appeals to them. The girl 
must have real social qualities and perhaps superior taste. Here in the 
little school society all the principles of personal ascendency in general 
and of leadership in particular will be found to hold good. But, just be- 
cause of the immaturity of the participants, if the matter takes care of 
itself, it is more than likely that the pupil leader will be of an inferior 
type, — that is, instead of his being genuine, an interpreter and 
organizer of the sentiments and impulses of his fellow pupils, he may, 
more or less thoughtlessly, merely dominate them and exploit their 
energies for his own selfish gratification or love of power. Every 
school, in fine, has many types of personality, some of which are 
bound to gain prestige and power, and the type which naturally ac- 
quires this power is not necessarily of the most desirable sort. A 
teacher's control over a school often depends entirely upon his ability 
to enUst in his behalf a natural leader, who, if left to himself, would 
ruin the school. It is a part of the teacher's problem so to develop 
and control the school's social life that the natural leaders may co- 
operate with him, and that the finer qualities of character in both 
teacher and pupils will have due opportunity to assert themselves in 
the school life. And furthermore he must so organize the work of 



PERSONAL FACTOR IN SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 



319 



the school that all pupils will have some opportunity for self-asser- 
tion. All cannot be leaders in the narrow sense. But, all should have 
forceful personalities. One of the defects of school education is that 
it does not sufficiently develop individuahty and initiative; pupils 
are too ready to be directed and led rather than to take the lead. As 
Terman says : "It seems that initiative and leadership are sometimes 
matters of habit. The habit, however, will develop only when nour- 
ished by self-confidence. If one is too early made conscious of one's 
weakness and shortcomings by stronger friends, the chances are that 
a chronic timidity will make the person a follower and hanger-on for 
life instead of a leader. It is essential to the healthy development of 
any youth that in something or other he should feel himself superior 
to any one around him. If leadership does not develop in youth, it 
is never Ukely to appear, or, if it does, only in narrow lines." ^ 

The teacher, then, must seek for ways to give to each pupil some- 
thing of the confidence and self-reliance that is inherent in the natural 
leader. And he should furthermore seek out the really strong char- 
acters and see that no petty circumstance prevents their having their 
rightful influence in the school group. But even the finer types of 
character must not be too far removed from the general level of the 
school. If they are much superior, they must have some qualities at 
least which will appeal to the whole school body. In schools with a 
healthy social atmosphere, however, it is not unusual for students of 
fine character to be the leaders in opinion and conduct. A particular 
illustration comes to mind. It was a small private academy of per- 
haps eighty pupils. The acknowledged leader of the school was a 
senior girl of good physical presence, an excellent student, quiet and 
dignified in manner, not openly aggressive, but sociable, sympathetic 
and tactful. She was the arbiter of public opinion and taste in that 
school. Rough boys acquiesced to her decisions, and there were few 
who had the hardihood to appeal from what she decided was proper. 

Important for the work of the school as are the facts of personal 
ascendency among students, they are even more vitally significant 
in the case of the teacher. If a teacher is anything at all, he must be 
a man of force and a leader, a dominating personality in his school. 
That he should be such a power is not in any way inconsistent with 

1 Pedagogical Seminary, 11 : 443. 



320 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

right ideals of education. It is true that the strong teacher may be a 
benevolent despot, but it is not necessary that he should be. He may 
be the dominant individual in a perfectly normal, spontaneous school 
Ufe. His dominance does not express itself by imposing his own ideas 
upon his pupils; it rather comes through helping them realize the best 
type of corporate life and by acting among them as an interpreter and 
coordinator of diverse interests. 

In such a school there may be real participation of the students in 
the matter of government, real development of initiative and self- 
reliance. In fact, the best type of personal influence on the part of 
the teacher, instead of being a hindrance, is the most important condi- 
tion for the development of these very quaUties in the pupils. But, 
in the case of the teacher, as of the student body, there are wrong as 
well as right types of personal ascendency. As has been said, the true 
teacher must be an interpreter of the Hf e of his school — ever endeavor- 
ing to bring it to a higher reahzation of its best impulses. This is 
what is meant by the statement that the teacher must be an inspirer, 
a person who can arouse each individual pupil to do his very best and 
who can, more than that, arouse the best energies of the student body 
as a whole. Of course, a teacher may fall far short of this sort of 
leadership. He may control his school by primitive means and be in 
no sense an interpreter. As Conover says: " Children may be bulUed 
and tricked into order and a certain kind of attention ; they will ad- 
mire the grand manner and obey the voice and gesture of the charlatan, 
but their hearts are not won ; and worse than all is the destructive 
lesson in the shallowness of man. It surely is better that a man should 
never have been bom than that he should cause one of these Httle 
ones to lose faith. A child is a hero worshiper before he is a critic, and 
often an unconscious mimic of what he may afterwards despise." ^ 
And again, " One wonders at the apparent success of a man who is 
often harsh and brutal in voice or manner ; and a young teacher will 
be thus tempted to assume the hardness he does not feel. Success 
of this sort is like the success of any other tyrant, and is criminally 
out of place among teachers of children." ^ 

If the teacher is to be an interesting and inspiring person, the most 
essential of all things is that he should be honest. He who is genuine 
' Personality in Education, p. 9. * Ibid., p. 18. 



PERSONAL FACTOR IN SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 321 

and sincere in all his acts and thoughts is almost inevitably attractive. 
What no one is interested in, is artificiality, and pupils are adepts at 
detecting it and putting it to scorn. We want our leaders first of all 
to be themselves. We give almost instinctive acquiescence to one 
who speaks a genuine word. Nor is this sincerity in word and life 
something the teacher can counterfeit, or put off and on at will. He 
must every minute be of a truth the character he pretends to be. 

Along with sincerity must go belief in one's self and in the worth- 
fulness of what one is doing and above all joy in the doing of it. A 
teacher who does not beHeve in himself and in the value of his work 
even to the point of exaggeration will not gain many followers. It is 
especially necessary for the teacher to be enthusiastic and joyful. He 
faces the difficult problem of building up new interests in boys and 
girls, interests often remote from the restricted native impulses with 
which they come to school. The average boy will not be convinced 
that arithmetic or geography, Latin or botany, are worthy of his best 
efforts unless he is taught by one who is full of enthusiasm for these 
subjects. His first interest will often be simply some of the eagerness 
of his teacher, imparted to him by suggestion. " The pupil believes 
in the value of the subject matter because the suggestiveness of the 
teacher's enthusiasm makes him see it with new eyes." ^ It is a dull 
person, indeed, who can work under such an ardent teacher and not 
begin to have his own soul fired with the same zeal. If in the ordinary 
studies the teacher must be possessed of a genuine and forceful per- 
sonaUty in order to infuse his pupils with a living interest, it is even 
more important from the point of view of moral training that he should 
be such a person. 

The principles of right living and of duty are not attractive unless 
they find concrete embodiment in the Hfe of some forceful man or 
woman. Here, as elsewhere, the interest in, and enthusiasm for, ideals 
must be built up by daily contact with one who is already thoroughly 
vital himself. 

The teacher, then, as a leader in the school group, must be genuine, 
unselfish, sympathetic and joyful, and yet with plenty of the forceful- 
ness and beHef in one's self which belongs to a virile manhood and 
womanhood. As one has said, we refuse to be helped by those who 

1 Munsterberg, Psychology and the Teacher, p. 317. 
Y 



/ 
322 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

wish to do so from a sense of duty, but we readily yield to the one who 
makes us feel he is having the time of his Ufe when he is assisting us. 
" Unless we heartily enjoy ourselves, other people will not allow us 
to improve their minds or their morals." The teacher who is lacking 
in these important quaUties can do much by self-suggestion to supply 
his deficiencies, that is, by determinedly thinking right thoughts — 
by building up his personality through persistent suggestions of cour- 
age and efi&ciency. A person of weak, uninspiring presence can thus 
make himself over more or less completely into a real leader. 

After all, the best account of the meaning of personality is to be 
found in the lives of some of the great teachers. What has been said 
of Alice Freeman Palmer must in some degree hold true of every real 
teacher. " Because of its combined variety and firmness (her) nature 
contained some provision for all ; nor was it ever closed to any. She 
seemed built for bounty, and held nothing back. Gayly she went 
forth throughout her too few years, scattering happiness up and down 
neglected ways. A fainting multitude flocked around to share her 
wisdom, peace, hardihood, devoutness and merriment; and more 
easily afterwards accommodated themselves to their lot. Strength 
continually went forth from her. She put on righteousness, and it 
clothed her, and sound judgment was her daily crown. Each eye that 
saw her blessed her ; each ear that heard her was made glad." ^ 

TOPICS FOR STUDY AND DISCUSSION 

1. Make as complete a list as possible of the extrinsic and intrinsic 
qualities which give a person influence in a social group. Underhne 
those which you have mentioned from your own observations. Con- 
sult, if necessary, LeBon, Ross, Larned, Cooley. 

2. Consider the extent and the ways in which one might increase 
his intrinsic powers of leadership. Self-suggestion, its scope and 
methods. After reflection, consult Brown, Faith and Health, Chapter 
IV, Munsterberg, Psychotherapy, pp. 370-398. 

3. Study President Hyde's conception of a teacher's proper philos- 
ophy of life. Might it be acquired and actually used by a teacher 
to make himself a real leader ? The Teacher's Philosophy in and out 
of School, William DeWitt Hyde, Riverside Educational Monographs, 
1910. 

4. Study the lives of such teachers as Thomas Arnold, Mark 

• Life of Alice Freeman Palmer, by G. H. Palmer, pp. 348, 349. 



PERSONAL FACTOR IN SOCIAL LIFE OF THE SCHOOL 323 

Hopkins or Alice Freeman Palmer, and attempt to state some of the 
sources of their personal power. 

5. Look rapidly through Larned's Study of Greatness in Men, to 
get additional light on the nature of great leaders with reference to 
practical applications in the school society. 

6. The significance of the "inspirer" in Spartan education. 

7. To what extent must the qualities of the leader vary with the 
age of those led ? Illustrate as fully as possible. Cf. Terman. 

8. What elements of personal ascendency are possessed by the 
bully? What does he lack of the qualities of a real leader? Cf. 
Terman. 

9. What are the effects upon a child or youth of being constantly 
snubbed ? 

ID. Write out a brief analysis or description: {a) of a pupil of superior 
personal influence ; {b) of a teacher of the same type whom you have 
known intimately. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Bell, Sanford. "A study of the teacher's influence," Fed. S., 7: 
492-525, Age at which children are most susceptible to teacher; 
importance of kindly, sympathetic attitude in teacher. 

Brown, C. R. Faith and Health: Chapter IV. Building up of one's 
personality by self-suggestion. 

Brown, J. F. The American High School, 207 : 214. The per- 
sonality of the teacher dependent upon health, sympathy, 
honesty, sense of humor, poise, firmness, personal appearance, 
faith in hvunan nature, etc. 

Carlyle, Thomas. Heroes and Hero-Worship. 

CoNOVER, J. P. Fersonality in Education, Chapter I, "The Teacher." 

CooLEY, C. N. "Leadership or personal ascendency," Chapter IX in 
Human Nature and the Social Order. This is the fullest and best 
available analysis; defines the relation of the leader to the group ; 
the mental traits and other sources of power of the leader ; ques- 
tion as to whether he really leads. 

FiNDLAY, J. J. Arnold of Rugby, Pt. II, "School life at Rugby." 
Cambridge. 1897. A valuable account of the social Hfe at Rugby 
as shaped by the dominant personality of Arnold. See also 
various of Arnold's sermons in this volume. 

Hyde, W. DeWitt. The Teacher's FMlosophy, Riverside Educa- 
tional Monographs, 19 10. 

Keatinge. Suggestions in Education. 



324 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Larned, J. N. A Study of Greatness in Men. Boston, 191 1. Espe- 
cially Chapter I, "The making of a great man." A suggestive 
analysis of the quahties which make for personal ascendency. 

LeBon, G. The Crowd, "Leaders of crowds and their means of 
persuasion," Bk. II, Chapter III. A brilliant but one-sided anal- 
ysis of, the conditions of personal ascendency. Regards the 
masses too largely as unthinking and helpless automata. 

MuMFORD, Eben. The Origins of Leadership. Chicago, 1907. A 
study of the conditions making for personal ascendency among 
primitive peoples. 

MtfNSTERBERG, HuGO. Psychotherapy. Contains suggestions as to 
the conditions of mental health, and hence of greater f orcefulness 
of personality. 

Psychology and the Teacher, Chapter XXIX, "The Teacher." 

The teacher must have belief, sincerity, enthusiasm. His per- 
sonality, more than his learning, counts. 

O'Shea, M. V. Social Development and Education, pp. 295-302. 

Palmer, G. N. "The ideal teacher," in The Teacher. A stimulat- 
ing analysis of certain traits of a good teacher — an aptitude for 
vicariousness, accumulated worldly means, an ability to in- 
vigorate life, a readiness to be forgotten. 

Life of Alice Freeman Palmer, especially Chapters V-VIII, XV. 

An inspiring account of the personal qualities and methods of 
work which made this woman such a great teacher. 

Ross, E. A. Social Control, Chapter XXI, "Personahty," pp. 275- 
290. Brief characterization of great leaders. The elements 
of natural and acquired prestige. 

Terman, L. H. "The psychology and pedagogy of leadership," 
Ped. S., 11:413-451. Leadership among animals; the bully, 
the child leader, variations according to age, etc. 

Tolstoy, Count Leo. War and Peace, Vol. IV. Contains a fine 
statement of the relation of the individual to the great move- 
ments of history. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 

Introductory Statement 

Thus far in Part II we have devoted our attention to the general 
nature of corporate Hfe and its relation to the work of the school. We 
now turn to the study of certain facts and principles which may prop- 
erly be viewed in relation to, or even as applications of, what has gone 
before. The general problem is that of the influence of the social 
group upon the character of the individual member of the group. This 
is a large problem with many aspects. The phase of it which is of 
most interest to us in this study is that which relates to the social 
conditions of the learning process, particularly as that process goes on 
in the school, and to the social conditions underl)dng the development 
of moral character. As a basis for the proper understanding of these 
matters, we will first study the social influences involved in the mental 
growth of the child and the final social character of personality. 

Two important discussions are here reproduced as a basis for study 
of this subject. In the one by Royce is a suggestive account of the 
way in which social forces begin to play upon the infant almost from 
the moment of birth and continue throughout Hfe. But not merely 
are our intellectual processes developed and refined by social contact, 
the very personality, the sum of all these intellectual and emotional 
activities, receives clearer and clearer deKmitation through our con- 
tact with other selves. Growth in individuality may be considered 
as the outcome of ten thousand subtle imitations and contrasts set 
up between ourselves and others. This social basis of personality 
is discussed in the extracts from Cooley. 

It is of some importance to have in mind in the very beginning of 
this aspect of our study the problem of the ultimate relation of the 

325 



326 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

individual to the social group. There are some thinkers who assume 
a complete subordination of personality to society. Both logically 
and historically, however, the two are coordinate; the individual is a 
center of energy, a creator of purposes. As he strikes out, he inevi- 
tably influences the Hves and purposes of other people, and in turn has 
his own purposes modified. But even to start with, his purposes can- 
not be considered as antisocial. He may, it is true, react against 
the society in which he lives, but his acts are not thereby any the less 
the social acts. His very individuality gains its uniqueness and its 
force through the contrast set up by his reaction upon or against his 
fellows. In the study before us we shall attempt to determine the 
nature and consequences of these human interrelations, especially in 
the field of individual growth and education. That we shall dwell 
upon this aspect should not be taken to indicate a failure to appreciate 
the meaning or reaUty of individuality. It is the specific function of 
another science, psychology, to deal with that phase. In all the fol- 
lowing discussions of social influences we shall assume that a high 
social development is attainable only as it is correlated with a high 
degree of individual development, that individuahty is a real and 
primary fact, but that it is none the less a social fact, the very defini- 
tion of individuality, depending as it does upon the presence and influ- 
ence of others. As iron sharpeneth iron, so the countenance of a man 
sharpeneth that of his friend; that is, not merely a man's countenance, 
but his whole personaHty, are thrown into clearer relief because of 
his intimate association with others. 

The Social Aspect of the Higher Forms of Docility 

Man's response to his environment is not merely a reaction to things, 
but is, and in fact predominantly is, a reaction to persons. There is 
not opportunity, in the present connection, to trace with any detail 
the rise and growth of our consciousness of the human personalities 
with whom we are accustomed to deal. The laws of habit and of 
association are unquestionably of importance as throwing light upon 
the way in which we come to regard certain objects in our environment 
not merely as physical things possessing size, movement, etc., but as 
objects endowed with an experience like our own, and possessing a 
consciousness that, inaccessible as it may be to us, is still, in so far as 
we get its expressions, essentially intelHgible and profoundly interest- 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 327 

ing to us. It is necessary in the present connection, without under- 
taking in the least the task of a specific social psychology, to give some 
indication of the way in which all our higher intellectual and voluntary 
habits are affected by this our conscious interpretation of the inner life 
of our fellows. 

The foundation for our whole social consciousness seems to lie in 
certain instincts which characterize us as social beings, and which 
begin to assume considerable prominence toward the end of the first 
year of an infant's life. These instincts express themselves first in 
reactions of general interest in the faces, in the presence and in the 
doings of our social fellow beings. Among these reactions some show 
great pleasure and fascination. Some, the reactions of bashfulness, 
show fear. This fear is an instinctive character, and in some cases 
may display itself in reactions of violent terror in the presence of 
strangers. But on the whole, more prominent, in the life of a nor- 
mally tended infant, is pleasurable reaction at the sight of people. It 
is unquestionable that, from the very first, these instincts are subject 
to the regular processes that everywhere determine our docility. Our 
social environment is a constant source of numerous sensory pleasures, 
and by association becomes interesting to us accordingly. But, in 
addition to the pleasures of sense, which are due to our human com- 
panions, there are, no doubt, from the first, deep instinctive and heredi- 
tary sources of interest in the activities of human beings. On the 
basis of the general social interests, there appear more special instincts, 
amongst which the most prominent is the complex of instincts suggested 
by the name imitation. It is by imitation that the child learns its 
language. It is by imitation that it acquired all the social tendencies 
that make it a tolerable member of society. Its imitativeness is the 
source of an eager and restless activity which the child pursues for 
years under circumstances of great chflficulty, and even when the 
processes involved seem to be more painful than pleasurable. Imi- 
tativeness remains with us through life. It attracts less of our con- 
scious attention in our adult years, but is present in ways that the 
psychologist is able to observe even in case of people who suppose them- 
selves not to be imitative. 

This human imitativeness assumes very notable forms in excited 
crowds of people, in what the recent psychologists have called in gen- 
eral " the mob." A mob, in the technical sense, is any company of 
persons whose present set of brain involves the abandonment of such 
habits as have most determined their customary individual choices, 
and the assumption, for the moment, merely of certain generalized 
modes of reaction which are of an emotional, a socially plastic and a 
decidedly imitative type. Under the influence of such social condi- 
tions, the members of the mob may perform acts of the type before 



328 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

referred to, acts which seem to the casual observer quite out of charac- 
ter in view of the training and of the ordinary opinions of the people 
concerned. Outside of the mob, the imitative reactions appear in all 
the phenomena of fashion and of transitory custom, such as any 
popular craze of the day, or the success of any favorite song, opera or 
novel, may daily illustrate. The most of people's political opinions, 
the most of their religious creeds, the most of their social judgments, 
are very highly imitative in their origin. 

Side by side with the social processes of the imitative type appear 
another group of reactions practically inseparable from the former, 
but in character decidedly contrasted with them. These are the 
phenomena of social opposition and of the love for contrasting one's 
self with one's fellows in behavior, in opinion or in power. These 
phenomena of social contrast and opposition have an unquestionably 
instinctive basis. They appear very early in childhood. They last 
in most people throughout life. They may take extremely hostile 
and formidable shapes. In their normal expression they constitute 
one of the most valuable features of any healthy social activity. This 
fact may be illustrated by any lively conversation or discussion. 

As a rule, the acts that express this fondness for social contrast, and 
for opposing one's self to the social environment, are, in their origin, 
secondary to the imitative acts. It is true that the instinctive basis 
for them appears quite as early as do the manifestations of the imitative 
instincts. And since this fondness for opposition is in part based upon 
the elemental emotions of the type expressed in anger, obstinacy and 
unwillingness to be interfered with, the instinctive basis for the t3^e of 
action here in question may be said to be manifest even earlier in in- 
fancy than is the case with the imitative reactions. But while the 
instinctive basis of opposition is primitive, the social acts that can 
express such instincts must be acquired. And in order to contrast 
one's self with one's social environment, it is necessary, in general, first 
to learn how to do something that has social significance. I cannot 
oppose you by my speech unless I already know how to talk. I cannot 
rival you as a musician unless I already understand music. I can- 
not endeavor to get the better of a pohtical rival unless I already under- 
stand politics. But speech and music and politics have to be learned 
by imitation. Hence, the social reactions which express the fondness 
for contrast and opposition must on the whole follow in their develop- 
ment the social reactions dependent upon imitation. This accounts 
for that close weaving together of the two tj^es of functions, of which 
we have already spoken. The playful child already seizes whatever 
little arts he has acquired by imitation to express his willfulness, or to 
develop his own devices, or to display himself to his environment. 
And, on the other hand, a form of willfulness, or of obstinacy, in an 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 329 

already highly intelligent being, may lead to a deliberately painstaking 
process of imitation, such as happens whenever an ambitious artist 
devotes himself long to training in order that thereby he may get the 
better of his rivals. In brief, the preservation of a happy balance 
between the imitative functions and those that emphasize social 
contrasts and oppositions forms the basis for every higher type of 
mental activity. And the entire process of conscious education involves 
the deliberate appeal to the docility of these two types of social instincts. 
For whatever else we teach to a social being, we teach him to imitate. 
And whatever use we teach him to make of his social imitations in his 
relations with other men, we are obliged at the same time to teach him 
to assert himself, in some sort of way, in contrast with his fellows, and 
by virtue of the arts which he possesses. 

The full consideration of the social value of imitativeness and of the 
love of social contrast and opposition would carry us wholly beyond our 
present limits. What we are concerned to notice, in this elementary 
study of psychology, is that the nature of these functions profoundly 
affects the structure and the development of the processes known as thought 
and reasoning. We are also concerned merely to mention a fact into 
whose adequate consideration we cannot hope to enter; the fact, 
namely, that all the functions which constitute self -consciousness show 
themselves outwardly in social reactions, that is, in dealings with other 
real or ideal personages, and are, in our own minds, profoundly related 
to, and inseparable from, our social consciousness. 

To specify more exactly the matters to which reference has thus been 
made : what is called thought consists (as has already been pointed out) 
of a series of mental processes that unquestionably tend to express them- 
selves in characteristic motor reactions. Many of these reactions noto- 
riously take the form of using, or applying, and of combining words. 
Now the reasons why our thinking process should so largely depend 
upon using words have often been discussed by psychologists, but at 
first sight they may appear to the elementary student of psychology 
somewhat puzzling. The general solution of the problem hes in the 
fact that words are the expressions of certain reactions that we have 
acquired when we were in social relations to our fellows. If we once 
imderstand how these social relations determine that character of our 
consciousness which essentially belongs to all thinking, we become able 
to see why verbal associations and habits should be so prominent in 
connection with all the thinking processes. We shall also be able to 
see what is frequently neglected by psychologists; namely, the possi- 
bility that processes of thought should on occasion appear dissociated 
from verbal expression, although never dissociated from tendencies to 
action which have a social origin essentially similar to that of language. 

Our words are first learned as part of our social intercourse with our 



330 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

fellows. As recent students of the psychology of the language of 
childhood have pointed out, words cannot be said at the outset to 
express to a child any exact abstract ideas. They are at first, as Wundt 
and his school have well insisted, rather the expressions of feelings 
than the embodiments of thought. The whole vocal life of infancy is 
primarily an expression of feeling. In social relationships it later 
becomes to a child associated with his socially fascinating feelings, 
with the sense of companionship, with his joy in the power to make 
sounds which others admire, and to imitate sounds which he hears 
others make. But now, in time, these expressions of the child's 
feelings become associated not only with social situations and delights, 
but with objects and deeds observed. The social utility of taking 
advantage of these associations is emphasized, in the child's training, 
by the behavior, and by the deliberate efforts at instruction in lan- 
guage, which he meets with in his elders. At length a stage comes 
when language is the expression of the child's wish, at once to charac- 
terize objects present in his experience, and to appeal intelligibly to 
the minds of his fellows. Now these two aspects of the language pro- 
cesses are never to be separated from one another, either in the life of 
childhood or in our much later rational development. A word, a 
phrase, a discourse, is always at once a response to certain facts in the 
outer or inner world which we attempt to characterize, and an appeal 
to the consciousness of our fellow. It is the latter aspect which gives 
language its primary practical importance. Language is not a direct 
adjustment to the facts apart from the purpose of communication. It 
is the purpose of communication that alone makes language essentially 
significant as a part of our mental equipment. But in view of this 
fact it is obvious that language acquires its value as a means of charac- 
terizing facts through processes which appear, in the mind of one who 
learns language, in the form of a long-continued, a laborious, and gener- 
ally a fascinating process of comparing his own way of using words with 
the ways employed by other people. From the time when a child plays at 
imitating his nurse's words, or at hearing his own babble imitated, to 
the time when, perhaps, as a lawyer, he adjusts his arguments to the 
requirements of judges and juries, and to the criticisms of an opponent, 
he constantly adjusts his reactions, as he speaks, to the reactions of 
other people, by comparing his own way of behavior with the behav- 
ior of others. Such comparison involves inevitably both of the two 
great social motives before emphasized. That is, it involves both the 
motives of imitation, pure and simple, and that love of social contrast 
which has before been emphasized. 

But now what is the inevitable result of all such activities? It is 
that the one who makes such social comparison becomes very highly 
conscious of the details of his own acts, and of the criticisms that other 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 



33-^ 



people are making upon these acts, and of the feelings which these acts 
arouse both in himself and in others. But now it is at the same time 
the case that the acts of which one becomes conscious are also acts 
which one is also seeking to adjust to objects as well as to social judg- 
ments. The result of this twofold adjustment is precisely the kind of 
consciousness which constitutes thinking. For thinking differs from 
naive action chiefly in this : When we act in naive fashion, we are espe- 
cially conscious of the objects to which we adjust ourselves, and of the 
feelings of success or of failure, that is, of satisfaction or of restlessness, 
of pleasure or of pain, that accompany these acts. Of the details of 
our acts we are not in such cases conscious, although our consciousness 
of our objects is unquestionably dependent upon the performance of 
our acts. Thus, one who seeks food is very imperfectly aware of how 
he moves his legs or his arms in walking or in grasping ; but he is aware 
of his images of the food, and of his relatively satisfactory or unsatis- 
factory efforts to obtain it. The reason why the details of our acts 
do not come in such cases clearly to consciousness is dependent upon 
the fact that our sensory experiences of the objects in question are 
prominent, while our sensory experiences of our acts, just in so far as 
the acts have become habitual, tend to be too swift for consciousness 
to follow ; while only our feelings remain, amongst our internal expe- 
riences, as the prominent accompaniments of the act. But, on the 
other hand, one who thinks makes it part of his ideal to be conscious of 
how he behaves in the presence of things. And this he does because the 
social comparison of his acts with the acts of other people not only 
controls the formation of his acts, but has made his observation of his 
own acts an ideal. For so far as he is imitating others, he is fascinated 
by the adjustment of his behavior to the behavior of others. So far 
as he is dwelling upon social conflicts and contrasts, he is displaying his 
own acts to the other people ; and so he is conscious that they are ob- 
serving him, and is desirous that they should do so. In consequence, 
the social conditions, under which language is acquired, produce the think- 
ing process, just because it is of the essence of the thinking process that 
we should become aware of how our acts are adjusted to our objects. 

The acts in which we express our thinking are not, however, exclu- 
sively confined to the process of using words or of combining them. 
The drawing of a scientific diagram, the construction of a work of art, 
the performance of an experiment, the adjustment of the pla3dng of 
one's musical instrument to the criticisms of one's musical rival, or to 
the guidance of the conductor of an orchestra, — all these are activities 
which involve thinking processes. They do so because they are social 
adjustments of the t)^e now in question ; that is, social adjustments, 
involving imitations and social contrasts, and including the consciousness 
of how one performs the act, and so of how it is adjusted to the ideal. 



332 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Such, then, is the general character of thought; namely, that it is 
our consciousness of an act or of a series of acts adjusted to an object, 
in such wise as fittingly to represent that object, or to portray it, or to 
characterize it, and in stich wise that the one who thinks is conscious of the 
nature of his act. Hence it will follow that all the special processes of 
thinking, such as those usually discriminated as conception, judgment 
and reasoning, exemplify this general character of the thinking process, 
and result from the effects of social stimulations. The process of con- 
trasting my own acts with my fellow's acts, and in consequence of con- 
trasting my own views with what I regard as the ideas of my fellow, 
this is the process which is responsible for that kind of consciousness 
which appears in all of our thoughtful activities. 

Let us exemplify these considerations by a few words about each of 
the thinking processes which have just been mentioned. The process 
called Conception, or the formation of Abstract General Ideas, is 
rightly regarded as essential to the thinking process. General ideas 
are the ideas which we associate with those words that have an appli- 
cation to any one of many individual cases or situations. The word 
" man " or " horse " is a word of general appKcation. The knowledge 
of what this word means involves a possession of a general idea of 
men or horses. Now of what mental material does such an idea con- 
sist ? When it is a lively, or a highly conscious, idea, it unquestionably 
involves, in all cases, and in one aspect, some kind of mental imagery. 
This imagery may, in visualizing people, take predominantly the form 
of mental pictures of representative men or of representative horses. 
It may in some minds take the form of vague mental pictures corre- 
sponding to what one might call " composite photographs," such as the 
mind would seem to have formed from retaining in imagination the 
characters common to many individual horses or men, while forgetting 
the characters wherein various individuals differ from one another. 
But it is, nevertheless, possible for one who is not a visualizer to have as 
clear an idea of what he means by " man " or " horse " as the visualiz- 
ing man possesses. And our more developed abstract ideas, such as 
mathematical abstractions, or such as our conception of justice, involve 
mental processes to whose portrayal visual imagery is extremely inade- 
quate. One comes nearer to dwelling upon the essential characteris- 
tics which the abstract ideas of a horse or of a man must possess when 
one observes that whoever knows what a horse or man in general is, knows 
of some kind of act which it is fitting to perform in the presence of any object 
of the class in question. 

The fact that too many psychological accounts of the nature of 
general ideas have resulted from confining psychological attention to 
the fragmentary images which may appear at any stage of the develop- 
ment or expression in consciousness of a general idea, instead of con- 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 333 

sidering the total mental process which is needed in order to portray 
with relative completeness any general idea whatever, is responsible 
for the result that the traditional account of general ideas has usually 
missed this, their relation to our conduct. But if this relation exists, 
if every complete general idea is a conscious plan of action, fitted for the 
characterization and portrayal of the nature of that of which we have a 
general idea, the psychological question regarding the genesis of general 
ideas is simply the question as to how we could become clearly conscious of 
such plans of action. For, as we pointed out above, we are not usually 
clearly conscious of precisely those acts which have become most 
habitual, unless special conditions call our attention to their constitu- 
tion. 

Our answer to the question thus raised has already been stated. 
The fact that all our general ideas have been formed under social 
conditions, and that the ways in which we describe, portray and 
characterize things have been throughout determined iDy motives of 
communication, by a disposition to imitate the behavior of our fel- 
lows, and by a disposition to compare our own mental attitudes with 
theirs, this fact sufficiently explains why the social contrasts and com- 
parisons in question have tended to make us and keep us conscious not 
only of our own objects, but of our own modes of rational behavior in 
their presence. 

Meanwhile, the essentially imitative character of all complex general 
ideas appears in all our most thoughtful processes; namely, in our more 
elaborate scientific general ideas. Such general ideas are best expressed 
by drawing diagrams, or by going through the processes of a scientific 
experiment, or by writing formulas on a blackboard, or, finally, by 
describing objects in well-ordered series of descriptive words. From 
this point of view one might declare that all our higher conceptions, 
just in proportion as they are thoughtful and definite, involve conscious 
imitations of things. And these conceptions are general, merely be- 
cause the fashion of imitation that we employ in the presence of one object 
will regularly be applicable to a great number of objects. 

Our numerical ideas illustrate this principle very well. They are 
more or less abbreviated expressions of the motor activity of counting, 
and of the results of this activity. The geometrical conception of a 
circle as a curve that can be constructed by fixing one end of a straight 
line, by leaving the other free, and by allowing this end to rotate in a 
plane, is another instance of a conception that is identical with our 
memory of a certain mode of portrayal by which a circle can be recon- 
structed. In brief, we have exact conceptions of things in so far as we 
know how the things are made, or how they can be imitatively reconstructed 
through our portrayals. Where our power to imitate ceases, our power 
definitely to conceive ceases also. All science is thus an effort to de- 



334 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

scribe facts, to set over against the real world an imitation of it. Hence 
the vanity of endeavoring to describe the process of conception merely 
in terms of images, without remembering that mental imagery, when 
definite, is always related to our action. But it is our social life that 
has made us conscious of our actions, and that has thus taught us how to 
form abstract ideas. 

The mental process called Judgment is the second essential aspect of 
the thinking process. While judgment involves many other aspects, 
its essential feature lies in the fact that, when we judge, we accept or 
reject a given proposed portrayal of objects as adequate, or as fitting for 
its own purpose. The general conception, as we have just seen, is a 
portrayal which one may compare to a photograph of a man. The act 
of judgment is comparable to the act whereby one to whom the photog- 
rapher sends the proofs of a photograph accepts or rejects the photo- 
graph as a worthy representation of the object in question. But our 
consciousness regarding the acceptance or rejection of proposed por- 
trayals of objects has become critical, has come to involve a sharp dis- 
tinction between truth and error, because we have so often compared our 
judgments with those of our fellows, and have so often criticized, accepted, 
or rejected their expressions, their attitudes toward things. Here 
again the conditions upon which the social consciousness depends have 
proved necessary to the formation of our thought. 

The process of reasoning, the third aspect of the thinking process, is 
in general the process of considering the results of proposed conceptions 
and judgments. 

As reasoning involves a constantly more and more elaborate con- 
sciousness of the nature and results of our own action, so again we see, 
from the whole history of the development of the reason amongst men, 
that reasoning is a consequence of social situations, and especially of the 
process of comparing various opinions and connections of opinion, as 
these have grown up amongst men. The whole method of the reasoning 
process has come to the consciousness of men as the result of disputa- 
tion ; that is, of processes whereby men have compared together their 
various ways of portraying things, and of taking accounts of the 
results of their own actions. Nobody learns to reason except after other 
people have pointed out to him how they view his attempts to give his own 
acts of thought connection, and to proceed from one act to another. Like 
the thinking process in general, the reasoning process develops out of 
conditions which at the outset involve a very rich, and in fact predomi- 
nant, presence of feelings and of complex emotions. That is, reasonings 
have resulted from what were at first decidedly passionate contrasts 
of opinion; and the dispassionate reason has grown up upon the basis 
of decidedly emotional efforts of men to persuade other men to assume 
their own fashions of conduct, and their own self-conscious view of how 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 335 

their various acts were connected together. If the process of concep- 
tion is the formation of a plan of conduct, the process of reasoning 
results from trying so to portray this plan as to persuade other men to 
assume it. Persuasion and controversy, upon earlier stages of mental 
development, are always associated with passionate vehemence. The 
ineffectiveness of mere passion to attain its own social ends, the growth 
of ingenuity in the process of persuasion, and the gradual elaboration of 
social habits, formed through the successful bringing of men to agree- 
ments, — such are the motives upon which the development of the 
reasoning process has depended. 

It remains here very briefly to characterize the highest and most com- 
plex of all the intellectual processes ; namely, that one which has to do 
with what is called our "Self-consciousness" in general, that is, the 
consciousness which the Ego, the Self, possesses of its own life activities 
and plans. The Self of any man comes to consciousness only in contrast 
with other selves. There is no reason why one should be aware of his 
whole plan of life, or of his personal character, or of the general con- 
nections amongst his various habits, or of the value of his own life, 
or of any of the features and attributes which our present conscious- 
ness ascribes to the Self, imless he has had occasion to compare his 
behavior, his feelings, and his ideals with those of other men. It is 
true that when developed, this Self includes amongst its possessions all 
the states of consciousness that make up the inner life of which we 
spoke in our opening paragraphs, that inner life which we conceived 
as in some sense inaccessible to, and sundered from, the inner life of 
anybody else. But there is no reason why these states of consciousness 
should form, from our point of view, a world by themselves, unless we 
had some world of other facts to compare and contrast them with. 
And the whole evidence of our social consciousness is to the effect that 
it is by virtue of our ideas of other people, and of their minds and 
conscious states, that we have come to form the conception of our own 
inner life as, in its wholeness, distinct from theirs. 

The conception of the so-called Empirical Self, that is, of the Self of 
our ordinary experience, is one which we find to be especiallj'- centered 
about certain of our most important organic sensations, and also centered 
about those feelings of pleasure, pain, restlessness and quiescence, 
which are most persistent and prominent in our lives. But the mere 
possession of these organic sensations and feelings is not sufficient to 
explain why we regard them as peculiarly belonging to the Self. It is 
only when we see the importance that our social life without fellows 
has given to these organic sensations that we recognize how we first 
have come to contrast our own experience with what we for various 
reasons conceive to be the inner experiences of other people, and then, 
by virtue of the prominence which our social contrasts and oppositions 



336 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

give to these organic sensations, have come to regard them as especially 
the immediate expression of our independence, and of that which keeps 
us apart from all other selves. 

That the Self comes to consciousness in normal cases only in con- 
nection with organized plans of conduct, is obvious from what has 
already been said. Our social self-consciousness leads us to form such 
plans, and to compare them with those of other people. Our conscious- 
ness of ourselves as personalities is therefore simply an extreme in- 
stance of that relation between social consciousness and the higher 
intellectual development which we have already set forth in our account 
of the general nature of thought. 

Reprinted from J. Royce, Outlines of Psychology, Chapter XII. 

The Social Basis of Personality 

The social self is simply any idea, or system of ideas, drawn from 
the communicative life, that the mind cherishes as its own. Self- 
feeling has its chief scope within the general life, not outside of it, the 
special endeavor or tendency of which it is the emotional aspect find- 
ing its principal field of exercises in a world of personal forces, re- 
flected in the mind by a world of personal impressions. 

As connected with the thought of other persons it is always a con- 
sciousness of the peculiar or differentiated aspect of one's life, because 
that is the aspect that has to be sustained by purpose and endeavor, 
and its more aggressive forms tend to attach themselves to whatever 
one finds to be at once congenial to one's own tendencies and at 
variance with those of others with whom one is in mental contact. 
It is here that they are most needed to serve their function of stimu- 
lating characteristic activity, of fostering those personal variations 
which the general plan of life seems to require. Heaven, says Shake- 
speare, doth divide 

" The state of man in divers functions, 
Setting endeavor in continual motion," 

and self-feeling is one of the means by which this diversity is achieved. 
Agreeably to this view we find that the aggressive self manifests 
itself most conspicuously in an appropriativeness of objects of com- 
mon desire, corresponding to the individual's need of power over 
such objects to secure his own peculiar development and to the dan- 
ger^of opposition from others who also need them. And this extends 
from material objects to lay hold, in the same spirit, of the attentions 
and affections of other people, of all sorts of plans and ambitions, 
including the noblest special purposes the mind can entertain, and 
indeed of any conceivable idea which may come to seem a part of 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 337 

one's life and in need of assertion against some one else. The at- 
tempt to limit the word "self" and its derivatives to the lower aims 
of personality is quite arbitrary; at variance with common sense as 
expressed by the emphatic use of " I " in connection with the sense 
of duty and other high motives, and unphilosophical as ignoring the 
function of the self as the organ of specialized endeavor of higher 
as well as lower kinds. 

That the " I " of common speech has a meaning which includes 
some sort of reference to other persons is involved in the very fact 
that the word and the ideas it stands for are phenomena of language 
and the communicative life. It is doubtful whether it is possible 
to use language at all without thinking more or less distinctly of 
some one else, and certainly the things to which we give names and 
which have a large place in reflective thought are almost always those 
which are impressed upon us by our contact with other people. Where 
there is no communication, there can be no nomenclature and no 
developed thought. What we call " me," " mine," or " myself " 
is, then, not something separate from the general life, but the most 
interesting part of it, a part whose interest arises from the very fact 
that it is both general and individual. That is, we care for it just be- 
cause it is that phase of the mind that is living and striving in the 
common life, trying to impress itself upon the minds of others. " I " 
is a militant social tendency, working to hold and enlarge its place 
in the general current of tendencies. So far as it can, it waxes, as 
all life does. To think of it as apart from society is a palpable absur- 
dity of which no one could be guilty who really saw it as a fact of life. 

"Der Mensch erkennt sich nur im Menschen, nur 
Das Leben lehret jedem was er sei." ^ 

If a thing has no relation to others of which one is conscious, he is 
unlikely to think of it at all, and if he does think of it he cannot, it 
seems to me, regard it as emphatically Ms. The appropriative sense 
is always the shadow, as it were, of the common life, and when we 
have it, we have a sense of the latter in connection with it. Thus, 
if we think of a secluded part of the woods as "ours," it is because we 
think, also, that others do not go there. As regards the body I 
doubt if we have a vivid my-feeling about any part of it which is 
not thought of, however vaguely, as having some actual or possible 
reference to some one else. Intense self-consciousness regarding it 
arises along with instincts or experiences which connect it with the 
thought of others. Internal organs, like the liver, are not thought 
of as peculiarly ours unless we are trying to communicate something 

^"Only in man does man know himself; life alone teaches each one what he is." — 
Goethe, Tasso, Act 2, Scene 3. 



338 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

regarding them, as, for instance, when they are giving us trouble and 
we are trying to get sympathy. 

" I," then, is not all of the mind, but a peculiarly central, vigorous, 
and well-knit portion of it, not separate from the rest, but gradually 
merging into it, and yet having a certain practical distinctness, 
so that a man generally shows clearly enough by his language and 
behavior what his " I " is as distinguished from thoughts he does 
not appropriate. It may be thought of, as already suggested, under 
the analogy of a central colored area on a lighted wall. It might 
also, and perhaps more justly, be compared to the nucleus of a living 
cell, not altogether separate from the surrounding matter, out of which 
indeed it is formed, but more active and definitely organized. 

The reference to other persons involved in the sense of self may 
be distinct and particular, as when a boy is ashamed to have his mother 
catch him at something she has forbidden, or it may be vague and 
general, as when one is ashamed to do something which only his con- 
science, expressing his sense of social responsibility, detects and dis- 
approves ; but it is always there. There is no sense of " I," as in 
pride or shame, without its correlative sense of you, or he, or they. 
Even the miser gloating over his hidden gold can feel the " mine " 
only as he is aware of the world of men over whom he has secret power ; 
and the case is very similar with all kinds of hidden treasure. Many 
painters, sculptors, and writers have loved to withhold their work 
from the world, fondling it in seclusion until they were quite done 
with it; but the delight in this, as in all secrets, depends upon a 
sense of value of what is concealed. 

In a very large and interesting class of cases the social reference 
takes the form of a somewhat definite imagination of how one's 
self — that is, any idea he appropriates — appears in a particular 
mind, and the kind of self-feeling one has is determined by the atti- 
tude toward this attributed to that other mind. A social self of this 
sort might be called the reflected or looking-glass self : — 

" Each to each a looking-glass 
Reflects the other that doth pass." 

As we see our face, figure and dress in the glass, and are interested 
in them because they are ours, and pleased or otherwise with them 
according as they do or do not answer to what we should like them 
to be ; so in imagination we perceive in another's mind some thought 
of our appearance, manners, aims, deeds, character, friends, and so 
on, and are variously affected by it. 

A self-idea of this sort seems to have three principal elements; 
the imagination of our appearance to the other person ; the imagina- 
tion of his judgment of that appearance, and some sort of self-feeling, 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 339 

such as pride or mortification. The comparison with a looking- 
glass hardly suggests the second element, the imagined judgment, 
which is quite essential. The thing that moves us to pride or shame 
is not the mere mechanical reflection of ourselves, but an imputed 
sentiment, the imagined effect of this reflection upon another's mind. 
This is evident from the fact that the character and weight of that 
other, in whose mind we see ourselves, makes all the difference with 
our feeling. We are ashamed to seem evasive in the presence of a 
straightforward man, cowardly in the presence of a brave one, gross 
in the eyes of a refined one, and so on. We always imagine, and in 
imagining share, the judgments of the other mind. A man will boast 
to one person of an action — say some sharp transaction in trade — 
which he would be ashamed to own to another. . . . 

I doubt whether there are any regular stages in the development of 
social self-feeling and expression common to the majority of children. 
The sentiments of self develop by imperceptible gradations out of 
the crude appropriative instinct of new-born babes, and their mani- 
festations vary indefinitely in different cases. Many children show 
" self-consciousness " conspicuously from the first half year ; others 
have little appearance of it at any age. Still others pass through 
periods of affectation whose length and time of occurrence would 
probably be found to be exceedingly various. In childhood, as at 
all times of life, absorption in some idea other than that of the social 
self tends to drive " self-consciousness " out. Nearly every one, 
however, whose turn of mind is at all imaginative, goes through a 
season of passionate self-feeling during adolescence, when, according 
to current belief, the social impulses are stimulated in connection with 
the rapid development of the functions of sex. This is a time of hero- 
worship, of high resolve, of impassioned reverie, of vague but fierce 
ambition, of strenuous imitation that seems affected, of gene in the 
presence of the other sex or of superior persons, and so on. 

Many autobiographies describe the social self-feeling of youth 
which, in the case of strenuous, susceptible natures, prevented by 
weak health or uncongenial surroundings from gaining the sort of 
success proper to that age, often attains extreme intensity. This 
is quite generally the case with the youth of men of genius, whose 
exceptional endowment and tendencies usually isolate them more 
or less from the ordinary life about them. In the autobiography 
of John Addington Symonds we have an account of the feelings of 
an ambitious boy suffering from ill-health, plainness of feature — 
peculiarly mortifying to his strong aesthetic instincts — and mental 
backwardness. ''I almost resented the attentions paid me as my 
father's son. ... I regarded them as acts of charitable condescen- 
sion. Thus I passed into an attitude of haughty shyness which had 



340 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

nothing respectable in it except a sort of self-reliant, world-defiant 
pride, a resolution to effectuate myself, and to win what I wanted by 
my exertions. ... I vowed to raise myself somehow or other to 
eminence of some sort. ... I felt no desire for wealth, no mere 
wish to cut a figure in society. But I thirsted with intolerable thirst 
for eminence, for recognition as a personality. . . . The main thing 
which sustained me was a sense of self — imperious, antagonistic, 
unmalleable, . . . My external self in these many ways was being 
perpetually snubbed, and crushed, and mortified. Yet the inner 
self hardened after a dumb blind fashion. I kept repeating, 'Wait, 
wait. I will, I shall, I must.' " At Oxford he overhears a conversa- 
tion in which his abilities are depreciated and it is predicted that he 
will not get his "first." "The sting of it remained in me; and 
though I cared little enough for first classes, I [then and there resolved 
that I would win the best first of my year. This kind of grit in me 
has to be notified. Nothing aroused it so much as a seeming slight, 
exciting my rebellious manhood." Again he exclaims, " I look 
round me and find nothing in which I excel. ... I fret because 
I do not realize ambition, because I have no active work, and cannot 
win a position of importance like other men." 

This sort of thing is familiar in literature, and very likely in our 
own experience. It seems worth while to recall it and to point out 
that this primal need of self-effectuation, to adopt Mr. Symond's 
phrase, is the essence of ambition, and always has for its object the 
production of some effect upon the minds of other people. We feel 
in the quotations above the indomitable surging up of the individualiz- 
ing, militant force of which self-feeling seems to be the organ. 

Sex-difference in the development of the social self is apparent 
from the first. Girls have, as a rule, a more impressible social sen- 
sibility ; they care more obviously for the image, study it, reflect upon 
it more, and so have even during the first year an appearance of subt- 
lety, finesse, often of affectation, in which boys are comparatively 
lacking. Boys are more taken up with muscular activity for its own 
sake and with construction; their imaginations are occupied somewhat 
less with persons and more with things. In a girl das ewig Weibliche, 
not easy to describe but quite unmistakable, appears as soon as she 
begins to take notice of people, and one phase of it is certainly an ego 
less simple and stable, a stronger impulse to go over to the other per- 
son's point of view and to stake joy and grief on the image in his mind. 
There can be no doubt that women are as a rule more dependent 
upon immediate personal support and corroboration than are men. 
The thought of the woman needs to fix itself upon some person in whose 
mind she can find a stable and compelling image of herself by which 
to live. If such an image is found, either in a visible or an ideal per- 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 341 

son, the power of devotion to it becomes a source of strength. But 
it is a sort of strength dependent upon this personal complement, 
without which the womanly character is somewhat apt to become 
a derelict and drifting vessel. Men, being built more for aggression, 
have relatively a greater power of standing alone. But no one can 
really stand alone, and the appearance of it is due simply to a greater 
momentum and continuity of character which stores up the past 
and resists immediate influences. Directly or indirectly the imagina- 
tion of how we appear to others is a controlling force in all normal 
minds. 

The vague but potent phases of the self associated with the in- 
stinct of sex may be regarded, like other phases, as expressive of a 
need to exert power, and as having reference to personal function. 
The youth, I take it, is bashful precisely because he is conscious 
of the vague stirring of an aggressive instinct which he does not know 
how either to effectuate or to ignore. And it is perhaps much 
the same with the other sex; the bashful are always aggressive at 
heart ; they are conscious of an interest in the other person, of a need 
to be something to him. And the more developed sexual passion, 
in both sexes, is very largely an emotion of power, domination, or 
appropriation. There is no state of feeling that says, " mine, mine," 
more fiercely. The need to be appropriated or dominated which, 
in women at least, is equally powerful, is of the same nature at bottom, 
having for its object the attracting to itself of a masterful passion. 
" The desire of a man is for the woman, but the desire of the woman 
is for the desire of the man." 

Although boys have generally a less impressionable social self than 
girls, there is great difference among them in this regard. Some 
of them have a marked tendency to finesse and posing, while others 
have almost none. The latter have a less vivid personal imagination ; 
they are unaffected chiefly, perhaps, because they have no vivid idea 
of how they seem to others, and so are not moved to seem rather 
than to be ; they are unresentful of slights because they do not feel 
them ; not ashamed or jealous or vain or proud or remorseful, because 
all these imply imagination of another's mind. I have known chil- 
dren who showed no tendency whatever to lie; in fact, could not under- 
stand the nature or object of lying or of any sort of concealment, as 
in such games as hide-and-coop. This excessively simple way of look- 
ing at things may come from unusual absorption in the observation 
and analysis of the impersonal, as appeared to be the case with R., 
whose interest in other facts and their relation so much preponderated 
over his interest in personal attitudes that there were no temptations 
to sacrifice the former to the latter. A child of this sort gives the 
impression of being nonmoral ; he neither sins nor repents, and has not 



342 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

the knowledge of good and evil. We eat of the tree of this knowledge 
when we begin to imagine the minds of others, and so become aware of 
that conflict of personal impulses which conscience aims to allay. 

Simplicity is a pleasant thing in children, or at any age, but it is 
not necessarily admirable, nor is affectation altogether a thing of 
evil. To be normal, to be at home in the world, with a prospect of 
power, usefulness or success, the person must have that imaginative 
insight into other minds that underlies tact and savoir-faire, morality 
and beneficence. This insight involves sophistication, some under- 
standing and sharing of the clandestine impulses of human nature. 
A simplicity that is merely the lack of this insight indicates a sort of 
defect. There is, however, another kind of simplicity, belonging to 
a character that is subtle and sensitive, but has sufficient force and 
mental clearness to keep in strict order the many impulses to which 
it is open, and so preserve its directness and unity. One may be sim- 
ple like Simple Simon, or in the sense that Emerson meant when be 
said, "To be simple is to be great." Affectation, vanity and the 
like, indicate the lack of proper assimilation of the influences aris- 
ing from our sense of what others think of us. Instead of these in- 
fluences working upon the individual gradually and without disturbing 
his equilibrium, they overbear him so that he appears to be not him- 
self, posing, out of function, and hence silly, weak, contemptible. 
The affected smile, the " foolish face of praise " is a type of all 
affectation, an external put-on thing, a weak and fatuous petition for 
approval. Whenever one is growing rapidly, learning eagerly, pre- 
occupied with strange ideals, he is in danger of this loss of equilibrium ; 
and so we notice it in sensitive children, especially girls, in young 
people between fourteen and twenty, and at all ages in persons of un- 
stable individuality. 

This disturbance of our equilibrium by the out-going of the imagi- 
nation toward another person's point of view means that we are under- 
going his influences. In the presence of one whom we feel to be of 
importance there is a tendency to enter into and adopt, by sympathy, 
his judgment of ourself, to put a new value on ideas and purposes, 
to recast life in his image. With a very sensitive person this tendency 
is often evident to others in ordinary conversation and in trivial mat- 
ters. By force of an impulse springing directly from the delicacy of his 
perceptions he is continually imagining how he appears to his inter- 
locutor, and accepting the image, for the moment, as himself. If 
the other appears to think him well-informed on some recondite mat- 
ter, he is likely to assume a learned expression; if thought judicious, 
he looks as if he were; if accused of dishonesty, he appears guilty; 
and so on. In short, a sensitive man, in the presence of an impres- 
sive personality, tends to become, for the time, his interpretation of 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 343 

what the other thinks he is. It is only the heavy minded who will 
not feel this to be true, in some degree, of themselves. Of course 
it is usually a temporary and somewhat superficial phenomenon; 
but it is typical of all ascendency, and helps us to understand how 
persons have power over us through some hold upon our imagina- 
tions, and how our personality grows and takes form by divining 
the appearance of our present self to other minds. 

So long as a character is open and capable of growth it retains a 
corresponding impressibility, which is not weakness unless it swamps 
the assimilating and organizing faculty. I know men whose careers 
are a proof of stable and aggressive character who have an almost 
feminine sensitiveness regarding their seeming to others. Indeed, 
if one sees a man whose attitude toward others is always assertive, 
never receptive, he may be confident that man will never go far, 
because he will never learn much. In character, as in every phase 
of life, health requires a just union of stability with plasticity. 

There is a vague excitement of the social self more general than 
any particular emotion or sentiment. Thus the mere presence of 
people, a " sense of other persons," as Professor Baldwin says, and an 
awareness of their observation, often causes a vague discomfort, 
doubt and tension. One feels that there is a social image of himself 
lurking about, and not knowing what it is he is obscurely alarmed. 
Many people, perhaps most, feel more or less agitation and embar- 
rassment under the observation of strangers, and for some even sitting 
in the same room with unfamiliar or uncongenial people is harassing 
and exhausting. It is well known, for instance, that a visit from a 
stranger would often cost Darwin his night's sleep, and many similar 
examples could be collected from the records of men of letters. At 
this point, however, it is evident that we approach the borders of 
mental pathology. 

Possibly some will think that I exaggerate the importance of social 
self-feeling by taking persons and periods of life that are abnormally 
sensitive. But I believe that with all normal and human people it 
remains, in one form or another, the mainspring of endeavor and a 
chief interest of the imagination throughout life. As in the case with 
other feelings, we do not think much of it so long as it is moderately 
and regularly gratified. Many people of balanced mind and congenial 
activity scarcely know that they care what others think about them, 
and will deny, perhaps with indignation, that such care is an impor- 
tant factor in what they are and do. But this is an illusion. If 
failure or disgrace arrives, if one suddenly finds that the faces of men 
show coldness or contempt instead of the kindliness and deference 
that he is used to, he will perceive from the shock, the fear, the sense 
of being outcast and helpless, that he was living in the minds of 



344 



SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 



others without knowing it, just as we daily walk the solid ground 
without thinking how it bears us up. This fact is so familiar in litera- 
ture, especially in modern novels, that it ought to be obvious enough. 
The works of George Eliot are particularly strong in the exposition 
of it. In most of her novels there is some character like Mr. Bul- 
strode in Middlemarch or Mr. Jermyn in Felix Holt, whose respect- 
able and long established social image of himself is shattered by the 
coming to light of hidden truth. 

It is true, however, that the attempt to describe the social self 
and to analyze the mental processes that enter into it almost una- 
voidably makes it appear more reflective and " self-conscious " than 
it usually is. Thus while some readers will be able to discover in them- 
selves a quite definite and deliberate contemplation of the reflected 
self, others will perhaps find nothing but a sympathetic impulse, so 
simple that it can hardly be made the object of distinct thought. 
Many people, whose behavior shows that their idea of themselves is 
largely caught from the persons they are with, are yet quite 
innocent of any intentional posing ; it is a matter of subconscious 
impulse or mere suggestion. The self of very sensitive but non- 
reflective minds is of this character. 

Extracts from Chapter V of Human Nature and the Social Order, C. H. Cooley, 
New York, 1902. Courtesy of Charles Scribner's Sons. 

Summary and Comment upon the Social Aspects of Mental 

Development 

It has been the purpose of this section to point out in a general way 
the extent to which the stimuli leading to true mental growth in the 
individual are determined by the presence of other people, and fur- 
ther, the effect of this social quality upon the process of education itself. 

The importance of early social intercourse in determining the child's 
character was clearly recognized by Froebel, and in his Mother- 
play he gives abundant illustration of the way it may occur, even in 
the earliest stages of mental growth. We can excuse some of the 
artificiality and the symbolism that pervades this book, if we read it 
in the hght of the fundamental truth here suggested, Froebel ap- 
parently thought that the attitudes of adult life were latent in the 
baby and that, if he were exercised in various ways, these attitudes 
would thereby become explicit. In a sense all of this is true. That 
is, the raw material of impulse is there, waiting only to be organized 
through the child's interaction with the social and material forces in 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 345 

his environment. In each one of the sections of the Mother-play Froe- 
bel shows how the social environment stimulates the baby's activities 
and helps to organize them in particular directions. In the first 
"play," for instance, the mother holds out her hands for the baby to 
press his feet against. The initiative is within the child, he is already 
trying to do something, he is kicking in a general way, but the mother 
is at hand and furnishes a part at least of that environment within 
which he may try his first powers. She thus helps to give definite 
direction to his impulses and thereby to organize them into rather 
explicit reactions. The pressing of the feet against the mother's 
hands is representative of the way an increasingly large number of 
his impulses are conditioned and organized by his social environment. 
At the first, other people merely attract his instinctive attention, but 
soon, under their influence, his vaguely directed movements tend to 
fall into the channels that are more or less in accord with the behavior 
of the people about him. The roles of imitation and social contrast 
become increasingly important. As Royce says, " The playful child 
seizes whatever little arts he has acquired by imitation to express his 
willfulness, or to develop his own devices or to display himself to his 
environment. . . . The social reactions which express the fondness for 
contrast and opposition must on the whole follow in their develop- 
ment the social reactions dependent upon imitation." 

We are not here especially concerned with the nature or mechanism 
of imitation. We need only note that the baby does at a very early 
period begin to imitate or set himself over against various of the activi- 
ties and attitudes of other people and that thus, in innumerable and 
subtle ways, sometimes obviously and sometimes obscurely, does his 
behavior become modified by the types prevailing in his social milieu. 

The learning of the language of his associates is, of course, the most 
striking example of the influence of others in the determination of the 
development of the child's impulses. " Words are the expressions of 
certain reactions that we have acquired when we were in social rela- 
tions with our fellows. . . . Our words are first learned as part 
of our social intercourse with our fellows." ^ The social utility of 
language is impressed upon the child from the start. The desire to 
express the objects of his experience and to appeal intelligently to 

1 Royce. 



346 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

the minds of his fellows is the same thing from different points of view.^ 
Through language, an almost infinite number of avenues of social 
influence are opened up to the child. By its help he can ask questions, 
give vent to his curiosity and, in general, discover what other people 
know or are thinking about. In this social crucible, by the help of 
the reagent language, his own ideas acquire shape and gain in substance. 

It is no exaggeration to say that, in these early years, by these well- 
known means, the child acquires the foundations of all the important 
mental attitudes and feelings of value that are present in the social 
context in which he lives and moves about. At any rate the attitudes 
which he does acquire are definitely related in form and texture to the 
influences he has breathed in from his social atmosphere. We do not 
mean that in every case the attitudes must be like the copies furnished 
by the social environment. Not only can they never be exactly ahke, 
they may even be markedly in contrast. But this very difference may 
in large degree be due to the influence of others. The changes due 
to social contrast, or contrary suggestion, as Royce and Baldwin have 
pointed out, are as genuine types of social influence as are those due 
to imitation. In other words, when a child tries purposely to be dif- 
ferent from other people, and this is by no means an infrequent en- 
deavor, he is not thereby escaping from social impression but literally 
acts as he does just because of this influence. As Royce suggests, a 
child's early mental life is a long process of comparing and contrasting 
himself with others. 

Such, then, in general are the presuppositions for the importance 
of a more serious consideration of the social conditions of learning as a 
whole and even of the narrower aspects of the processes of learning. 
From the preceding discussion certain general propositions may be 
deduced; thus : (a) The motives for learning and the specific stimuli 
thereto are furnished by our contact with people; (Jb) The presence 
of a social context within which impulses may be put forth modifies 
in important ways the intensity and efficiency of such impulses; (c) 
The fact that the conditions under which impulse finds expression are 
social means that the product will, in definite ways, be determined 
socially. Putting all this in a single proposition, we may say: Our 
association with others stimulates us to greater activity in specific and 

1 Royce, op. ciL, pp. 2805-281. 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 347 

important ways, determines either positively or negatively the par- 
ticular organization of that activity and the particular quality of the 
results it attains. A conclusion from the above would be that no ade- 
quate control of the process of learning is possible which does not recog- 
nize explicitly the social factors necessarily involved in it. 

The above propositions have been briefly illustrated in the case of 
the beginnings of mental growth in the individual, but they have, as 
well, a general application to the accumulation of knowledge in the 
human race as a little reflection may help us to see. For example, 
rival interests in land helped to develop the first crude geometrical 
ideas; the necessities of commerce, social necessities, led to the de- 
velopment of geographical science. All the modern sciences show 
abundantly the influence of social interactions of various types. 
Every branch of human knowledge has developed in large measure 
along two lines. In part the problems have arisen in some one's mind 
out of the fact itself that there are other people present in one's en- 
vironment, so that, whether the problems are distinctly social or not, 
they acquire importance because of their being associated with human 
life and need. In some measure the problems relative to the causes 
and the control of such diseases as Asiatic cholera, typhoid fever, 
yellow fever, are of this type. On the other hand, some of the prob- 
lems of science have been more individualistic in origin, i.e. they have 
grown out of the curiosity of the individual rather than out of social 
need or social pressure. And yet because a number of different people 
happen to be curious along the same general directions such problems 
have more than an individual interest. Just because of their more or 
less general interest many different individuals contribute or cooper- 
ate in their solution, as has been abundantly illustrated in the develop- 
ment of electrical science. Here the problems had at the first no 
direct social origin and yet the product was distinctly a social one, 
for many different individuals contributed to the development of 
the whole and the discoveries of any one man would certainly not have 
been possible except for the work of many predecessors and contem- 
poraries. In any case the average solver of problems can hardly 
abstract himself from some idea of social approval as he pursues his 
work. He cannot work long without some sort of audience, real or 
ideal. 



348 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Mere social intercourse is in itself capable of exerting a powerful 
stimulus toward the realization of problems and toward mental growth 
generally. We have already referred to this point in the case of the 
baby and little child. We may now consider it with reference to 
people in general. We are constantly taking certain points of view, 
and as we take them we feel that we must express them, explain them 
or defend them. For instance, a young man through reading and re- 
flection came to the idea that the principle of free trade is not only 
more logical but fairer to the general interests of the country than is 
that of protection. It all seemed clear enough to himself as he thought 
it over, but he did not realize how imperfectly he really conceived his 
new point of view until he tried to state it to one of his friends. He 
then discovered with some astonishment that the mere statement of 
the free-trade doctrine in its abstract form was not of necessity con- 
vincing to one who believed the opposite, and that before he could hope 
to convince others he must clear up his own mind much further upon 
the subject, that he must organize his facts so they would be more tell- 
ing, that ways of presenting them must be studied out so that they 
might not only be clear but forceful and unexceptionable. He was 
brought face to face with this necessity only through conversation with 
his friends, and through conversation he succeeded in clearing up and 
organizing his ideas where before he had had only vague feelings. 
This case is quite typical. As a recent author says,^ ideas are clarified 
by the white heat of free discussion : nothing so helps one to know 
his own powers as measuring them with those of others. In endeavor- 
ing to enlighten others we find ourselves enlightened. True conversa- 
tion is always reciprocally beneficial. " No matter how much you 
give you are sure to receive something. . . . The more you give, the 
more you have to give. Expression of thought makes it grow. As 
soon as you express one thought, a hundred others may start from it, 
the avenues of the mind open at once to new views, to new percep- 
tions of things." 2 "On the wings of conversation the seeds and germs 
of new productions are constantly scattered, and the thoughts of one 
mind cause new thoughts to spring into being from contact with those 
of another." ^ " The inner being, the mind and heart, are nearly 
always shaped by intimate and familiar conversation, which, springing 

^ R. Waters, Culture by Conversation. ^ P. 41. ^ p. 42. 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 349 

spontaneously and naturally among friends and acquaintances, oper- 
ates unconsciously in forming the character, in inspiring thought, 
in shaping one's aims and ambitions, and in creating a desire for in- 
tellectual expansion." ^ 

It appears that the ancient Greeks were the first to recognize the 
value of discussion in the development of meanings and the reaching 
of conclusions. Socrates and his immediate school are represented 
as depending altogether upon the exchange of thought in conversation 
in the development of their ethical and philosophical points of view. 
In fact, the very problems which led to the discussions were rife in the 
social order of the time. It was in the everyday street-corner talk, 
in familiar conversation upon questions actually present in their social 
and poUtical Ufe, that they finally came to formulate points of view, 
concepts of the good, of justice, of the perfect state and the perfect 
life. Although they finally got into the depths of philosophy, in the 
beginning their questions were quite concrete. It was not abstract 
goodness or justice that started them to thinking. It was the problem 
of how to live lives with more of the concrete reality of justice in them, 
or perhaps whether the just Hfe was really practical and desirable after 
all or not. As they discussed such questions this way and that, definite 
philosophies of conduct were developed. The great work of Aristotle, 
as a systematizer and as a thinker, was the outcome of the seemingly 
endless discussions of his predecessors. His problems came to him 
along with many suggestions toward their solution through the re- 
peated reaction upon them of other minds. 

Socrates is sometimes represented as affecting ignorance that he 
might more effectively draw out and thus teach some youth. It is 
just possible that this was not all pretense, however, and that he 
genuinely sought to clear up his own ideas by inducing some unso- 
phisticated mind to react upon his problem, or perhaps, even to find 
the problem itself in the naive unreserved expression of opinion on 
the part of some young man (unreserved because the youth would 
not be abashed by any affectation of superiority in the questioner). 
But whether Socrates' ignorance was real or pretended, there have 
been people since his day who, though able to reflect independently, 
have found it immeiisely easier and more productive of results to 

^Op. cit., pp. ix, X. 



3SO SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

develop their ideas through discussing them with others. The prev- 
alence of the dialogue form in the literature of philosophy may 
possibly indicate that the presence of even an imaginary social group 
tends to stimulate one's thinking. Many of our most important 
scientific distinctions, classifications, concepts, etc., have been de- 
veloped, either in our efforts to justify or make clear our own attitudes 
to others, or through the mutual reaction of individuals upon a com- 
mon problem. What each person does in a case of this kind stimu- 
lates his companions to further effort so that the intellectual conclu- 
sions are a genuine social product. It seems impossible for one mind 
to see all sides of a question or to detect all of its bearings. When, 
therefore, several people are active together in the solution of a prob- 
lem, it often occurs that the most unexpected difficulties are unearthed 
and met. One can never know just how sensible his own ideas are 
until he hears the comments which other people make upon them. In 
developing a train of thought it is almost impossible to take a stand 
outside and view it impartially; it is too much a part of ourselves. 
Hence the need of friendly discussion such as social intercourse medi- 
ates. 

If the interaction of minds in conversation and discussion is so 
potent in the development and organization of the ideas of adults, is 
it not possible that there may be great and unappreciated opportuni- 
ties in conversation as a means of mental development in children ? 
The prattle and questions of little children seem endless and often 
wearying, but everything points to this same insatiable desire to talk 
as a most important channel for securing in them healthful mental 
growth, provided, of course, the fact is appreciated by their adult 
companions. Too often the adult regards the talk of the child as 
merely childish, and when he joins in with him it is in monosyllables 
and with much patronizing affectation. But the child really needs and 
normally desires that his questions be taken seriously and answered 
candidly. He needs the reaction of his parents and others to his child- 
hood problems. 

Just as we find our own thought processes stimulated by the con- 
versation of some people and deadened by that of others, so must it 
be with the child. He finds the same difference in the replies to his 
questions which he elicits from his elders, and in the conversation they 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 



351 



share with him as we find in our intercommunications. Sometimes 
his spirits are lifted up and expanded; sometimes they are completely 
flattened out. The parent can thus deaden or stimulate the spirit of 
inquiry in his child. The child can just as truly find his parent " sug- 
gestive " in what he says and in the way he says it as does the parent 
the words of some brilliant adult conversationalist. 

Through the proper answering of the child's questions, and through 
talking to him about things within his range of interests, such results 
as the following may be attained and in perfectly natural ways : (a) 
His fund of available knowledge may be increased. (&) He may be 
brought to a consciousness of new problems and may be stimulated to 
grapple with them, (c) Through conversation his ideas may be cleared 
up and organized into natural and useful attitudes or systems, (d) 
All these are merely ways of saying that his whole intellectual outlook 
as well as his valuations and appreciations of life may be in this manner 
appreciably broadened. The information which one seemingly gives 
another to whom he talks is not really merely given, if the conversa- 
tion is genuine, and, by genuine, we mean mutual activity along some 
given line of thought. The case is quite different when a person pas- 
sively receives the information through a lecture or a book. It is 
information that comes to one in this way that is noneducative. 

If intelligent conversation has such a place as this in mental growth, 
how cruelly perverse was the old adage that children must be seen 
and not heard! The distraction and teasing quality of much of the 
talk of children is the direct outcome of the failure of the child to find 
in the parent or companion any adequate response to his impulses 
and inquiries. Hence we are not standing for the proposition that 
mere child talk is of great value. The value arises only as it fuses 
with an appreciative response in some older person who is awake to 
the importance of his opportunity when he holds commimion with the 
child spirit. 

Scott, in his Social Education (pp. 180 ff.), gives an interesting illus- 
tration of how a child may, through conversation with an adult, obtain 
information that will be truly educative. A four-year-old girl is 
walking in the woods with her father and sees some toadstools which 
she calls " little tables." A conversation ensues in which the father 
does not attempt to correct the child's notion directly, but rather to 



352 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

draw her out and to discuss with her the implications of such a view 
of toadstools. To quote from Scott : " Both father and child are 
working on the same stream of thought, and it makes little difference 
which of them expresses the thoughts that come. The father may 
express the child's thought, or the child may express her own. The 
father may even express his own thoughts in so far as they are not 
accepted authoritatively." In other words, where there is mutual 
interchange of thought, where there is genuine activity on both sides 
with reference to a common problem, the points of view brought out 
will belong genuinely to both parties. An idea which one person gets 
from another under such circumstances is not merely annexed; it 
becomes an organic part of his own psychical attitude because he is 
himself active in the same direction. Persons thus in rapport with 
each other constitute a psychical unity which is of the greatest signifi- 
cance for all types of mental enlargement. 

" Children who have grown up in homes in which the talk ran on 
large Unes and touched on all the great interests of Hfe will agree that 
nothing gave them greater pleasure or more genuine education. There 
are homes in which the very atmosphere makes for wide knowledge 
of Hfe, for generous aims, for citizenship in the world, as well as in the 
locality in which the home stands. Teachers in schools and colleges 
find the widest differences in range of information and quahty of in- 
telligence in the boys and girls who come to them. Some children 
bring a store of knowledge and sound tastes with them ; others seem 
to have had no cultivation of any sort, are ignorant of everything 
save the few subjects which they have been compelled to study, and 
have no personal acquaintance with books or art or nature or the 
large affairs of the world. They have absorbed nothing, for there has 
been nothing to absorb ; all that they know has been poured into them. 
The fortunate children have grown up in association with men and 
women of general intelligence, have heard them talk and lived among 
their books. 

" There is no educational opportunity in the homes more important 
than the talk at table. But this educational influence must issue from 
the spirit and interests of the parents; it must never wear a peda- 
gogic air and impose a schoolroom order on a life which ought to be 
free, spontaneous and joyful. The home in which the talk is prear- 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 353 

ranged to instruct the children would be, not a garden where birds 
and dogs and children play together, but an institution in which 
the inmates live by rule and not instinct. . . . 

''It is not the child of six who sits at the table and hstens; it 
is a human spirit, eager, curious, wondering, surrounded by mysteries, 
silently taking in what it does not understand to-day, but which will 
take possession of it next year and become a torch to hght it on its way. 
It is through association with older people that these fructifying ideas 
come to the child ; it is through such talk that he finds the world he 
is to possess. 

" The talk of the family ought not, therefore, to be directed at him or 
shaped for him ; but it ought to make a place for him. If the Balkan 
situation comes up, let the boy get out the atlas and find Bosnia and 
Bulgaria ; it is quite likely that his elders may have forgotten the exact 
location of these countries; it is even possible that they may never 
have known. ... 

"Talk on books, plays, pictures, music, may have the same quahty 
of a common interest for those who listen as well as for those who 
talk. There are homes in which the informal discussion of these 
matters is a liberal education; and long years after, children, who 
were not taken account of at the time, remember phrases and sentences 
that have been key words in their vocabulary of life. , . . 

"Children are part of the family and have a right to a share in the 
talk; do not silence them by the old-fashioned arbitrary rule com- 
manding them to be " seen but not heard." If they are in the right 
atmosphere, they will not be intrusive or impertinent; perhaps one 
reason why some American children are aggressive and lacking in 
respect is the frivolity of the talk that goes on in some American fami- 
Hes. Make place for their interests, their questions, the problems of 
their experience ; for there are young as well as old perplexities. En- 
courage them to talk, and meet them more than halfway by the ut- 
most hospitality to the subjects that interest and puzzle them.^ 

So much for the general significance of conversation in the process 
of mental growth. It is possible, however, as Royce has done, to carry 
the analysis still further and to show that the various psychical pro- 
cesses usually discussed in psychology as purely individualistic affairs 
1 From the Outlook, Nov. 14, 1908. 



354 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

are definitely social in their development and depend upon social 
stimuli for their practical efficiency. This has been admirably done 
in the preceding extract from Royce. Social influences react upon 
the development of our meanings, of our appreciations and of our 
feelings in general. Our dominant habits are social, our perceptive 
activity is, in a measure, socially determined, and to some extent also 
are our organizations of ideas, that is, our associative systems, and 
our concepts are social. Of judgment, Royce says, in substance, that 
it is essentially an acceptance or a rejection of a proposed portrayal 
of objects as adequate or fitting for its own purpose. This critical atti- 
tude develops " because we have so often compared our judgments 
with those of our fellows." Reasoning, he maintains, is " the process 
of considering the results of proposed conceptions and judgments." 
" Reasoning is a consequence of social situations, and especially of 
the process of comparing various opinions and connections of opinion 
as these have grown up among men. The process of contrasting my 
own acts with my fellow's acts, and in consequence of contrasting my 
own views with what I regard as the ideas of my fellow, this is the pro- 
cess which is responsible for that kind of consciousness which appears 
in all our thoughtful activities." " Nobody learns to reason except 
after other people have pointed out to him how they view his attempts 
to give his own acts of thought connection." " Reasoning results 
from trying so to portray a plan (of conduct) as to persuade other 
people to assume it." Reasoning is a reduced conflict; we have be- 
come critical and sharp in our distinctions between truth and error be- 
cause we have so often compared judgments with other people, have 
criticized, accepted or rejected their expressions and their attitudes 
toward things. 

We see, thus, that it is quite possible to view the different elementary 
mental processes as phases of mental differentiation dependent in 
very important ways upon our contact with one another. They are 
certainly of this type, rather than spontaneous developments of the 
mind produced by its mere reaction upon the external world of physi- 
cal objects. In other words, it is not only conceivable, but also alto- 
gether probable, that an individual brought into contact with a purely 
physical environment would scarcely rise above the mere feeling 
and simple apprehension of the animal level of intelligence. 



THE SOCIAL ASPECTS OF MENTAL DEVELOPMENT 355 



REFERENCES 

Baldwin, J. M. Social and Ethical Interpretations. New York. 

Bawden, H. H. "The social character of consciousness and its bear- 
ings upon education," El. S. T., 4 : 366. 

BoHANNON, E. W. "The only child in a family," Fed. S., 5: 475- 
496, Such children strikingly inferior, especially morally, to 
children with associates. 

CooLEY, C. H. Human Nature and the Social Order. New York, 
1902. The entire book is relevant. See especially Chapter I 
treating of the general relations of individual and society ; Chap- 
ter II, suggestion and choice, the significance of imitation; Chap- 
ters V and VI, the social character of personality ; Chapter IX, 
nature of leadership. 

FiTE, Warner. Individualism, pp. 135-182. New York, 1910. 
Holds that individual, if not of primary significance, is at least 
coordinate with society both in origin and in function. 

Hartson, L. D. "The psychology of the club," Fed. S., 18:353. 
An inductive study. Quite general. 

King, I. "lmita,tion," The Fsychology of Child Development. Chicago, 
2d ed., 1904, Chapter X. An interpretation of imitation as an 
expression of individuality. 

LeBon, Gustave. The Crowd. A Study in the Fopular Mind. Con- 
tains much suggestive material. 

Mead, G. H. "The psychology of social consciousness as implied 
in instruction," Science, 31 : 688. May 6, 1910. 

"Social psychology as a counterpart of physiological psychology," 

Fsychological Bulletin. December, 1909. 

" Fite's Individualism," Psychological Bulletin. September, 191 1, 

p. 323. An acute criticism. 

O'Shea, M. V. Social Development and Education. Boston, 1909. 
Part I deals with the fundamental social manifestations in early 
mental development. See also Chapters XI, XII, XVI, XVII. 
The character of the only child, 252. 

Ross, E. A. Social Fsychology. New York, 1908. 

RoYCE, J. "The social aspect of the higher forms of docility," Out- 
lines of Fsychology, Chapter XII. Reprinted herewith. 

Scott, C. A. "Social Education," Ed., 30: 67, 163, 210. Illustrates 
the need of and method of developing self-organized groups. 



356 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Small, M. H. "The suggestibility of children," Ped. 5., 4 : 176-220. 
1896. 

"On some psychical relations of society and solitude," Ped. S., 

7 : 13-69. 1900. 

Vincent, G. E. The Social Mind and Education. Chapter IV. New 
York, 1897. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE OF THE SCHOOL AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 

The Social Aspects of Learning 

Introductory Statement 

We considered in the last section the general influence exerted 
upon the individual by his social environment. In this section we 
take up the more specific problem of the social nature of the learning 
process, especially as it occurs in the school. 

It is, first of all, of interest to know that the mere presence of others 
in one's immediate environment exerts a marked influence upon one's 
mental processes. This influence has been made the subject of many 
experiments, the more important of which are summarized in the ac- 
companying paper by Burnham. As he suggests at the close, however, 
there is a still wider point of view, " In a true social group the rela- 
tions are more vital " than are those described in these experiments. 
This primary, possibly instinctive, susceptibility to other people is 
increased many fold when individuals gain that spiritual rapport with 
each other that is characteristic of true social relationship. The mem- 
bers of a school or of a class influence one another not in the bare ele- 
mentary fashion due to mere proximity of one to another. They 
form rather a vital spiritual unity in which every susceptibiHty is 
greatly enhanced. 

In view of this fact the student will find Mead's paper of particular 
value as a statement of the need of more definitely recognizing social 
motives and stimuli in the regular work of the school. We saw in the 
preceding section what an important part communication, social 
exchange of ideas, has played in the development of the race and of 
the individual. Mead points out that the average school almost 
entirely ignores this factor in attempting to train the child. In the 
extract from Dewey, certain of the traditional school studies are dis- 
ss; 



358 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

cussed from the point of view of their value as means of social communi- 
cation and social development. In the extracts from Scott, the student 
will find an account of an interesting attempt to make available, in 
the practical work of the school, the social motives and group influ- 
ences described by the previous writers. Scott admits that it may 
not be possible to do in all schools just what he has done, but his work 
is nevertheless most suggestive. Whether all the details of his experi- 
ment are generally practicable or not, as a whole it calls attention to 
a large and neglected fund of resources which, if utilized even in part, 
would do much to vitalize and render more effective the work of the 
school. 

But whether or not a teacher is so situated as to put into operation 
some special device such as that employed by Scott, he can at least 
do much in the schools, as they are to render the work of instruction 
and of learning less individualistic and more social. This phase is 
discussed in the comment at the close of the section. 

The Group as a Stimulus to Mental Activity 

As the social instincts in man are fundamental, one of the most 
important factors of his environment is the presence or absence of 
other human beings. This cannot be ignored. The problem I wish 
to present is this : What is the eflfect on mental activity of the presence 
of a group of other persons, if studied objectively, like the effects of 
temperature, barometric pressure or the Hke? Perhaps the best 
way to present this problem is to recount briefly the meager but 
important results of investigations already made.^ 

Studies in social psychology have shown that an individual alone 
and the same individual in a group are two different psychological 
beings. Recent investigations show that the same is true of children. 
The child working alone is different from the child working in a class. 
A few years ago Dr. Mayer, of Wiirzburg, studied experimentally 
this difference as regards the ability to do school work. His problem 
was to determine whether and under what conditions the work of 
pupils in a group give better results than the individual work of 
isolated pupils. He tested the ability of pupils to work alone or in 
company with others, using dictation, mental arithmetic, memory 
tests, combination tests after the manner of Ebbinghaus, and written 
arithmetic. 

iFor reference to the studies mentioned below, see Fed. S., Vol. 12, June, 1905, pp. 
229-230. 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 359 

Dr. Mayer's method was briefly as follows : a number of boys in 
the fifth school year of the people's school in Wiirzburg were given 
five different tasks as class exercises, and also each boy was required 
to prepare a similar task for comparison in which he sat alone in the 
classroom, only the class teacher or a colleague being present. The 
material for the tasks was carefully chosen and was familiar to the 
pupils. The pupils were representative of very different elements as 
regards school ability, behavior, temperament and home conditions. 
The number tested was twenty-eight; the average age, twelve years. 

In general, the result of the work of the pupils in groups was supe- 
rior to their work as individuals. This appeared not only in the de- 
crease of time, but in the superior quality of the work done. In 
individual cases, the saving of time was especially striking ; for example, 
one pupil for a combination test required ten minutes and 25 seconds 
when working alone, for a similar test when working with the group 
7 minutes and 30 seconds; another, alone 13 minutes and 11 seconds, 
with the group 6 minutes and 45 seconds. 

Dr. Triplett tested the influence of the presence of a coworker on 
a simple physical performance. His subjects were forty school chil- 
dren, and he had them turn a reel as rapidly as possible. The children 
turned the reel now alone and then in company with another child, 
in both cases with directions to turn as rapidly as possible. Two 
results were noted. It appeared, on the one hand, that pupils worked 
more rapidly when another child worked in combination; but, on the 
other hand, in case of many children, hasty, uncoordinated movements 
appeared which reduced their performance. 

Wherever men are together, the individual is influenced by others 
without being aware of it. This is specially well illustrated by cer- 
tain experiments in the laboratory. Meumann cites the case of a 
subject whose work at night with the ergograph had a very definite 
value. Accidentally one evening Meumann entered the laboratory, 
and at once the work done was decidedly increased in comparison with 
that of other days, and this without the subject's making any volun- 
tary effort to accomplish more. In such experiments the subject 
always attempts to do his utmost, and hence the significance of the 
increased work done in the presence of another individual. Many 
examples of such effects of suggestion have been reported by psychol- 
ogists. 

Meumann, in experiments in the People's Schools, corroborated the 
results of Triplett and Fere in a striking manner. Seven pupils of the 
age of thirteen or fourteen were tested repeatedly with the dynamom- 
eter and ergograph. In case of the test of the pupils separately, with 
no one else in the room, the amount of work was always less than when 
others were present. If the experiments were made in the presence of 



36o SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

the teacher alone, the pupils did not do as much work" as when they 
were all together without the teacher. 

From all this it appears, as Mayer points out, that pupils in a class 
are in a sort of mental rapport; they hear, see and know continually 
what the others are doing, and thus real class work is not a mere case 
of individuals working together and their performance the summa- 
tion of the work of many individuals ; but there is a sort of class spirit, 
so that, in the full sense of the word, one can speak of a group per- 
formance, which may be compared with an individual performance. 
The pupils are members of a community of workers. The individual 
working by himself is a different person. Schmidt in his careful inves- 
tigation testing school children in their home work as compared with 
their school work found that for most kinds of work the product in 
the classroom was superior. His results are to a considerable degree 
evidence in corroboration of the results found by Mayer. The child 
studying school tasks at home is relatively isolated ; in the class he is 
one of a social group with common aims. 

A noteworthy result of these investigations is the apparent im- 
munity of children to distraction from ordinary causes. Schmidt 
found that the outside disturbances — the noise from the street, 
from adjoining rooms, and the like had little effect upon them. It 
was only interruptions that distracted their attention, such as con- 
versation with others, that affected the quality of their work. It 
appeared even that a home task completed without disturbance might 
be poorer than the corresponding class work, and that a home task 
when the pupil was disturbed might be better than the class work. 
And from Mayer's study, it appeared that the tendency to distraction 
is diminished rather than increased by class work. 

Meumann, in tests of the memory of pupils alone and when working 
together, found similar results. Disconnected words of two syllables 
were used, which were written down, pronounced once to the pupils, 
and then written down immediately by them from memory. It would 
naturally be supposed that the children working in the classroom 
with all the inevitable noises and disturbances, would not remember 
as well as when tested alone. The result of Meumann's investiga- 
tion, however, was surprising. While in case of children thirteen and 
fourteen years of age there was no essential difference in memory for 
the individual and the common test, the difference was remarkably large 
in case of those eight and nine years of age. On an average, with the 
individual test the children remembered considerably less than in the 
class. The results were constant. Not a child was found who remem- 
bered more in the individual test than in the class test. From this 
Meumann concludes that the great number of disturbing influences to 
which children are inevitably exposed in the classroom — the noise of 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 361 

writing, whispering, walking about, the occasional words of the 
teacher, the sight of the movements of the pupils, and the like, which 
one might naturally suppose would make the results inferior, have no 
special influence. 

Meumann asked a number of the pupils in case of the individual 
tests whether they would prefer to take such exercise in the class or 
alone, whether they were disturbed by the noise of the other people. 
To his surprise, 80 per cent of the pupils gave the decided answer that 
they would prefer to do the work in the class. Some 15 per cent gave 
no definite answer. The others, an extremely small minority, replied 
that they were disturbed in the classroom ; and in most cases these 
were sensitive, nervous or weak children, although among them were 
some individuals of decided talent. 

Thus it appears that the presence of a group distinctly affects the 
mental activity. Of course, the easy explanation of the increased 
ability to work often found in the group is to say that it is due to 
ambition, rivalry and the like. This is all true enough, but we can 
analyze this a little further. 

A few things are pretty obvious. First of all, where activity is 
involved, there is the stimulus to greater exertion which comes from 
the sight of another performing an act. As Professor James has said, 
the sight of action in another is the greatest stimulus to action by 
ourselves. This has manifold illustrations from the activities of primi- 
tive man to modern experiments in the laboratory. In early stages, 
for example, an institution sometimes found is the praesul. A leader 
stands before a group who are engaged in work or a dance and himself 
performs perhaps in pantomime the activities which they are attempt- 
ing. This stimulates and renders easier the activity of the group. 
Every paced race on the athletic field also furnishes an excellent 
illustration. Again in the laboratory. Fere found that the amount of 
work one could do with the ergograph was increased by having another 
person simply go through the action of contracting the muscles of the 
finger in sight of the subject of the experiment, the second person 
acting as a sort of pace-maker for the first. The clearer and more 
intense the idea of an action, the more efiicient the action. 

There is undoubtedly also an eflfective stimulus in the presence of 
the group. This is the stimulus which comes from our social impulses 
as inherited from the past, and yet it should be noticed that such 
effective stimuli, which, I take it, are what is really meant by ambition 
and the like, may act either to increase or to inhibit the mental activity. 
A certain degree of afi"ective stimulus undoubtedly increases the ability 
to work, but if the stimulus is extreme, the work is checked or inhibited 
altogether. For example, extreme anger, stage fright, and even extreme 
joy, in the presence of the group, may inhibit the mental activity. 



362 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

In many individuals at least, the presence of the group is a stimulus 
to greater concentration of attention. In case others are doing the 
same thing, this helps us attend better to the activity in hand ; and 
even in case others are doing something different, the distraction itself 
is sometimes a stimulus to better attention, because the individual 
tries to resist the attraction, and there is an over-compensation which 
improves the attention, Meumann, for example, has found this result 
in certain experiments. 

Meumann emphasizes particularly this compensation power of 
attention. Not merely is it true that the performance of an indi- 
vidual often increases when there are disturbing stimuli, because the 
increased concentration to overcome the distractions increases the 
work ; but more than this, the compensation, which in this case be- 
comes an over-compensation, shows that the disturbing stimulus 
has the effect of increasing rather than decreasing the energy; that is, 
it has a dynamogenic effect, although this effort does not occur in case 
of all individuals. . . . 

To describe the stimulus to the imagination from the group would 
be commonplace. We need not go to the laboratory nor cite the case 
of children for illustration. The man in the crowd has always been 
able to see what has happened, and more besides; to foresee impending 
danger, or anticipate success, or hear voices from the unknown and 
behold inspiring visions. ... 

As regards the relative merits of solitude or a social environment for 
scholastic pursuits I am not concerned here to speak. But the weight 
of evidence thus far seems to be to indicate the advantage of group 
work, except when individual and original thinking is required. This 
is perhaps one reason why the man of genius has frequently desired 
solitude. There are undoubtedly, also, great individual differences as 
regards the effect of social environment ; there are even perhaps dif- 
ferent types as regards the effectiveness of the stimuli from the social 
group. There may perhaps be one t3^e that does its best work in 
solitude, another type that does its best work in the group. This 
again is one of the problems that should be investigated. 

Again, of course, the question is relative to the kind of work done. 
Mayer's experiments indicate that for some kinds of work the stimulus 
of the social group is needed. For some kinds of work, especially 
where original thinking is demanded, the environment of solitude is 
better. 

What we may call the social stimulus to mental activity is such a 
commonplace matter that probably very few realize its significance. 
When, however, we recall the fundamental character of our social 
instincts, it is not strange that the presence of other people should be a 
most potent stimulus, either increasing or checking the mental activity. 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 363 

Psychologists have always recognized the fundamental character of 
stimulus from ambition, rivalry, and the like. But this social stimulus 
goes much farther back, and is rooted in the reflexes of the sympathetic 
nervous system that are correlated with emotion. This is well illus- 
trated in experiments with animals. Mosso found in his experiments 
testing directly the sympathetic reflexes in the dog that the presence 
of the master in the room at once affected the reflexes ; and Dr. Yerkes, 
of Harvard University, finds that in his experiments with dogs the 
presence of the experimenter is always likely to affect the results. 

The fundamental character of the social stimulus is shown also in 
many fields of human activity according to one view of aesthetics. The 
artist always works with the audience in his mind. The teacher 
also and the orator are apt to do much of their work with the class or 
audience in mind. I am not concerned here with the fact that this 
often becomes a grotesque and exaggerated mark of the profession, but 
merely with this as an illustration of the fundamental character of 
what we have called the social stimulus. 

In fact, this social stimulus colors everything. It is comparable 
only to the constant peripheral stimulation which is necessary to keep 
us awake ; in like manner, a social stimulus is necessary as an internal 
condition, as we may say, of consciousness. . . . 

The social instincts are so strong in children that if they are so un- 
fortunate as to be largely isolated from others they are apt to create 
imaginary companions and to live in a dream world of society. 

The aim of this paper is to present the problem. Let me, for a 
moment, however, hint at a wider point of view. 

The investigations referred to have chiefly concerned the mere 
presence or absence of other individuals performing similar tasks. In 
a true social group, the relations are more vital. Each individual feels a 
responsibility and performs some service for the group. Here the stim- 
ulus is likely to be greater. Perhaps the greatest stimulus to mental 
activity from the group is social success to those who can achieve it. 

Both experiment and observation have shown the great stimulus re- 
sulting from success in general. Social beings that we are, no form of 
success is so stimulating as a social success. When we reflect that under 
present conditions many of the children in our schools are so placed 
that a social success is impossible we see the significance of this point. 

Wm. H. Burnham. Selected extracts from an article in Science, N. S., Vol. 13, 
pp. 761-766, May 20, 19,10. 

The Psychology of Social Consciousness implied in Instruction 

The sociologist notes two methods in the process of primitive 
education. The first is generally described as that of play and imi- 



364 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

tation. The impulses of the children find their expression in play, 
and play describes the attitude of the child's consciousness. Imita- 
tion defines the form of unconscious social control exercised by the 
community over the expression of childish impulses. 

In the long ceremonies of initiation education assumed a more 
conscious and almost deliberate form. The boy was induced into the 
clan mysteries, into the mythology and social procedure of the com- 
munity, under an emotional tension which was skillfully aroused and 
maintained. He was subjected to tests of endurance which were 
calculated not only to fulfill this purpose, but also to identify the end 
and interests of the individual with those of the social group. These 
more general purposes of the initiatory ceremonies were also at times 
cunningly adapted to enhance the authority of the medicine man or 
the control over food and women by the older men in the community. 

Whatever opinion one may hold to the interpretation which folk- 
psychology and anthropology have given of this early phase of educa- 
tion, no one would deny, I imagine, the possibility of studying the 
education of the savage child scientifically, nor that this would be a 
psychological study. Imitation, play, emotional tensions favoring the 
acquirement of clan myths and cults, and the formation of clan judg- 
ments of evaluation, these must be all interpreted and formulated by 
some form of psychology. The particular form which has dealt with 
these phenomena and processes is social psychology. The important 
features of the situation would be found not in the structure of the 
idea to be assimilated considered as material of instruction for any 
child, nor in the lines of association which would guarantee their 
abiding in consciousness. They would be found in the impulse of the 
children expressed in play, in the tendency of the children to put 
themselves in the place of the men and women of the group, i.e. to 
imitate them in the emotions which consciousness of themselves in their 
relationship to others evoke, and in the import for the boy which the 
ideas and cults would have when surcharged with such emotions. 

If we turn to our system of education, we find that the materials of 
the curriculum have been presented as precepts capable of being as- 
similated by the nature of their content to other contents in conscious- 
ness, and the manner has been indicated in which this material can 
be most favorably prepared for such assimilation. This type of psy- 
chological treatment of material and the lesson is recognized at once 
as Herbartian. It is an associational type of psychology. Its critics 
add that it is intellectualistic. In any case, it is not a social psychology, 
for the child is not primarily considered as a self among other selves, 
but as an apperceptionsmasse. The child's relations to the other 
members of the group to which he belongs have no immediate bear- 
ing on the material nor on the learning of it. The banishment from 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 365 

the traditional school work of play and of any adult activities in 
which the child could have a part as a child, i.e. the banishment of 
processes in which the child can be conscious of himself in relation to 
others, means that the process of learning has as little social content 
as possible. 

An explanation of the different attitudes in the training of the child 
in the primitive and in the modern civilized communities is found, in 
part, in the division of labor between the school on one side and the 
home and the shop or the farm on the other. The business of storing 
the mind with ideas, both materials and methods, has been assigned 
to the school. The task of organizing and socializing the self to which 
these materials and methods belong is left to the home and the indus- 
try or profession, to the playground, the street and society in general. 
A great deal of modern educational literature turns upon the fallacy 
of this division of labor. The earlier vogue of manual training and 
the domestic arts, before the frank recognition of their relation to in- 
dustrial training took place, was due in no small part to the attempt 
to introduce those interests of the child's into the field of his instruc- 
tion which gathers about a socially constituted self, to admit the child's 
personality as a whole into the school. 

I think we should be prepared to admit the implication of this edu- 
cational movement — that however abstract the material is which is 
presented and however abstracted its ultimate use is from the imme- 
diate activities of the child, the situation implied in instruction and in 
the psychology of that instruction is a social situation ; that it is impos- 
sible to fully interpret or control the process of instruction without 
recognizing the child as a self and viewing his conscious processes 
from the point of view of their relation in his consciousness to his self, 
among other selves. 

In the first place, back of all instruction lies the relation of the child 
to the teacher, and about it lie the relations of the child to the other 
children in the schoolroom and on the playground. It is, however, 
of interest to note that so far as the material of instruction is con- 
cerned, an ideal situation has been conceived to be one in which the 
personality of the teacher disappears as completely as possible behind 
the process of learning. In the actual process of instruction, the 
emphasis upon the relation of the pupil and teacher in the conscious- 
ness of the child has been felt to be unfortunate. In like manner, 
the instinctive social relations between the children in school hours 
is repressed. In the process of memorizing and reciting a lesson, or 
working out a problem in arithmetic, a vivid consciousness of the per- 
sonality of the teacher in his relationship to that of the child would 
imply either that the teacher was obliged to exercise discipline to carry 
on the process of instruction, and this must in the nature of the case 



366 SOCxAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

constitute friction and division of attention, or else that the child's 
interest is distracted from the subject matter of the lesson to some- 
thing in which the personality of the teacher and pupil might find 
some other content; for even a teacher's approval and a child's 
delight therein has no essential relation to the mere subject matter 
of arithmetic or English. It certainly has no such relationship as 
that implied in apprenticeship, in the boy's helping on the farm or the 
girl's helping in the housekeeping, has no such relationship as that 
of members of an athletic team to each other. In these latter in- 
stances, the vivid consciousness of the self of the child and of his master, 
of the parents whom he helps, and of the associates with whom he 
plays is part of the child's consciousness of these personal relationships 
and involves no division of attention. Now it had been a part of the 
fallacy of an intellectualistic pedagogy that a divided attention was 
necessary to insure application of attention — that the rewards, and 
especially the punishments, of the school hung before the child's mind 
to catch the attention that was wandering from the task, and through 
their associations with the schoolwork to bring it back to the task. 
This involves a continual vibration of attention on the part of the 
average child between the task and the sanctions of school discipline. 
It is only the psychology of school discipline that is social. The pains 
and penalties, the pleasures of success in competition, of favorable 
mention of all sorts, implies vivid self-consciousness. It is evident that 
advantage would follow from making the consciousness of self or selves, 
which is the life of the child's play — on its competition or coopera- 
tion — have as essential a place in instruction. To use Professor 
Dewey's phrase, instruction should be an interchange of experience 
in which the child brings his experience to be interpreted by the expe- 
rience of the parent or teacher. This recognizes that education is 
interchange of ideas, is conversation — belongs to a universe of 
discourse. If the lesson is simply set for the child — is not his own 
problem — the recognition of himself as facing a task and a task-master 
is no part of the solution of the problem. But a difficulty which the 
child feels and brings to his parent or teacher for solution is helped on 
toward interpretation by the consciousness of the child's relation to his 
pastors and masters. Just in so far as the subject matter of instruc- 
tion can be brought into the form of problems arising in the experience 
of the child — just so far will the relation of the child to the instructor 
become a part of the natural solution of the problem; actual suc- 
cess of a teacher depends in large measure upon this capacity to state 
the subject matter of instruction in terms of the experience of the 
children. The recognition of the value of industrial and vocational 
training comes back at once to this, that what the child has to learn is 
what he wants to acquire, to become a man. Under these conditions 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 367 

instruction takes on frankly the form of conversation, as much sought 
by the pupil as the instructor. 

I take it therefore to be a scientific task to which education should 
set itself, that of making the subject matter of its instruction the 
material of personal intercourse between pupils and instructors and 
between the children themselves, the substitution of the converse 
of concrete individuals for the pale abstractions of thought. 

To a large extent our school organization reserves the use of the 
personal relation between teacher and taught for the negative side, 
for the prohibitions. The lack of interest in the personal content of 
the lesson is, in fact, startling when one considers that it is the per- 
sonal form in which the instruction should be given. The best illus- 
tration of this lack of interest we find in the problems which disgrace 
our arithmetic. They are supposed matters of converse, but their 
content is so bare, their abstractions so raggedly covered with the 
form of questions about such marketing and shopping and building 
as never were on sea or land, that one sees that the social form of 
instruction is a form only for the writer of the arithmetic. When 
further we consider how utterly inadequate the teaching force of our 
public schools is to transform this matter into concrete experience of 
the children or even into their own experience, the hopelessness of the 
situation is overwhelming. Ostwald has written a textbook of chem- 
istry for the secondary school which has done what every textbook 
should do. It is not only that the material shows real respect for the 
intelligence of the student, but it is so organized that the development 
of the subject matter is in reality the action and reaction of one mind 
upon another mind. The dictum of the Platonic Socrates, that one 
must follow the argument where it leads in the dialogue, should be the 
motto of the writer of textbooks. 

It has been indicated already that language being essentially social 
in its nature, thinking with the child is rendered concrete by taking on 
the form of conversation. It has been also indicated that this can 
take place only when the thought has reference to a real problem in 
the experience of the child. The further demand for control over atten- 
tion carries us back to the conditions of attention. Here again we 
find that traditional school practice depends upon social consciousness 
for bringing the wandering attention back to the task, when it finds 
that the subjective conditions of attention to the material of instruc- 
tion are lacking and even attempts to carry over a formal self-con- 
sciousness into attention, when through the sense of duty the pupil 
is called upon to identify the solution of the problem with himself. 
On the other hand, we have in vocational instruction the situation in 
which the student has identified his impulses with the subject matter 
of the task. In the former case, as in the case of instruction, our 



368 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

traditional practice makes use of the self-consciousness of the child in 
its least effective form. The material of the lesson is not identified 
with the impulses of the child. The attention is not due to the 
organization of impulses to outgoing activity. The organization of 
typical school attention is that of a school self, expressing subordina- 
tion to school authority and identity of conduct with that of all the 
other children in the room. It is largely inhibitive — a consciousness 
of what one must not do, but the inhibitions do not arise out of the 
consciousness of what one is doing. It is the nature of school atten- 
tion to abstract from the content of any specific task. The child 
must give attention _^r5/ and then undertake any task which is assigned 
him, while normal attention is essentially selective and depends for 
its inhibitions upon the specific act. 

Now consciousness of self should follow upon that of attention, and 
consists in a reference of the act, which attention has mediated, to the 
social self. It brings about a conscious organization of this particular 
act with the individual as a whole — makes it his act, and can only be 
effectively accomplished when the attention is an actual organization 
of impulses seeking expression. The separation between the self, 
implied in typical school attention, and the content of the school 
tasks makes such an organization diJQEicult if not impossible. 

In a word, attention is a process of organization of consciousness. 
It results in the reenforcement and inhibitions of perceptions and 
ideas. It is always a part of an act and involves the relation of that 
act to the whole field of consciousness. This relation to the whole field 
of consciousness finds its expression in consciousness of self. But the 
consciousness of self depends primarily upon social relations. The 
self arises in consciousness pari passu with the recognition and defini- 
tion of other selves. It is therefore unfruitful, if not impossible, to 
attempt to scientifically control the attention of children in their formal 
education, unless they are regarded as social beings in dealing with 
the very material of instruction. It is this essentially social character 
of attention which gives its peculiar grip to vocational training. From 
the psychological point of view, not only the method and material, 
but also the means of holding the pupils' attention must be socialized. 

Finally, a word may be added with reference to the evaluations — 
the emotional reactions — which our education should call forth. 
There is no phase of our public school training that is so defective as 
this. The school undertakes to acquaint the child with the ideas and 
methods which he is to use as a man. Shut up in the history, the 
geography, the language and the number of our curricula should be 
the values that the country, and its human institutions, have ; that 
beauty has in nature and art ; and the values involved in the control 
over nature and social conditions. 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 369 

The child in entering into his heritage of ideas and methods should 
have the emotional response which the boy has in a primitive com- 
munity when he has been initiated into the mysteries and the social 
code of the group of which he has become a citizen. We have a few 
remainders of this emotional response in the confirmation or conver- 
sion and entrance into the church, in the initiation into the fraternity, 
and in the passage from apprenticeship into the union. But the 
complexities of our social life and the abstract intellectual character 
of the ideas which society uses have made it increasingly difficult to 
identify the attainment of the equipment of a man with the meaning 
of manhood and citizenship. 

Conventional ceremonies at the end of the period of education 
will never accomplish this. And we have to further recognize that our 
education extends for many far beyond the adolescent period to which 
this emotional response naturally belongs. What our schools can give 
must be given through the social consciousness of the child as that 
consciousness develops. It is only as the child recognizes a social 
import in what he is learning and doing that moral education can be 
given. 

I have sought to indicate that the process of schooling in its barest 
form cannot be successfully studied by a scientific psychology unless 
that psychology is social, i.e. unless it recognizes that the processes 
of acquiring knowledge, of giving attention, of evaluating in emotional 
terms must be studied in their relation to selves in a social conscious- 
ness. So far as education is concerned, the child does not become 
social by learning. He must be social in order to learn. 

G. H. Mead. Reprinted from Science, N. S., Vol. 31, pp. 688-693, May 6, 1910. 



The Social Values of the Curriculum 

The principle of the school as itself a representative social institution 
may be applied to the subject matter of instruction — must be 
applied, if the divorce between information and character is to be 
overcome. 

A casual glance at pedagogical literature will show that we are 
much in need of an ultimate criterion for the value of studies, and 
for deciding what is meant by content value and by form value. At 
present we are apt to have two, three, or even four different stand- 
ards set up, by which different values — as disciplinary, culture, and 
information values — are measured. There is no conception of any 
single unifying principle. The point here made is that the extent 
and way in which a study brings the pupil to consciousness of his 
social environment, and confers upon him the ability to mterpret his 



370 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

own powers from the standpoint of their possiblities in social use, is 
this ultimate and unified standard. 

The distinction of form and content value is becoming famihar, 
but, so far as I know, no attempt has been made to give it rational 
basis. I submit the following as the key to the distinction: A study 
from a certain point of view serves to introduce the child to a con- 
sciousness of the make-up or structure of social life; from another 
point of view, it serves to introduce him to a knowledge of, and com- 
mand over, the instrumentalities through which society carries itself 
along. The former is the content value; the latter is the form 
value. Form is thus in no sense a term of depreciation. Form is 
as necessary as content. Form represents, as it were, the technique, 
the adjustment of means involved in social action, just as content 
refers to the realized value or end of social action. What is needed 
is not a depreciation of form, but a correct placing of it, that is, seeing 
that since it is related as means to end, it must be kept in subordina- 
tion to an end, and taught in relation to the end. The distinction is 
ultimately an ethical one because it relates not to anything found in 
the study from a purely intellectual or logical point of view, but to 
the studies considered from the standpoint of the ways in which they 
develop a consciousness of the nature of social life, in which the child 
is to live. 

I take up the discussion first from the side of content. The conten- 
tion is that a study is to be considered as bringing the child to realize 
the social scene of action ; that when thus considered it gives a criterion 
for the selection of material and for the judgment of value. At 
present, as already suggested, we have three independent values set 
up : one of culture, another of information, and another of discipline. 
In reality these refer only to three phases of social interpretation. 
Information is genuine or educative only in so far as it effects definite 
images and conceptions of material placed in social Ufe. Discipline is 
genuine and educative only as it represents a reaction of the informa- 
tion into the individual's own powers so that he can bring them under 
control for social ends. Culture, if it is to be genuine and educative, 
and not an external polish or factitious varnish, represents the vital 
union of information and discipline. It designates the socialization 
of the individual in his whole outlook upon life and mode of dealing 
with it. 

This abstract point may be illustrated briefly by reference to a few 
of the school studies. In the first place, there is no line of demarca- 
tion within facts themselves which classifies them as belonging to 
science, history or geography, respectively. The pigeonhole classifi- 
cation which is so prevalent at present (fostered by introducing the 
pupil at the outset into a number of different studies contained in 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 371 

different textbooks) gives an utterly erroneous idea of the relations 
of studies to each other, and to the intellectual whole to which they 
all belong. In fact, these subjects have all to do with the same ulti- 
mate reality, namely, the conscious experience of man. It is only 
because we have different interests, or different ends, that we sort out 
the material and label part of it science, part history, part geography, 
and so on. Each of these subjects represents an arrangement of 
materials with reference to some one dominant or typical aim or 
process of the social life. 

This social criterion is necessary not only to mark off the studies 
from each other, but also to grasp the reasons for the study of each 
and the motives in connection with which it should be presented. 
How, for example, shall we define geography ? What is the unity in 
the different so-called divisions of geography — as mathematical 
geography, physical geography, poHtical geography, commercial 
geography? Are these purely empirical classifications dependent 
upon the brute fact that we run across a lot of different facts which 
cannot be connected with one another, or is there some reason why 
they are all called geography, and is there some intrinsic principle 
upon which the material is distributed under these various heads ? I 
understand by intrinsic not something which attaches to the objec- 
tive facts themselves, for the facts do not classify themselves, but 
something in the interest and attitude of the human mind towards 
them. This is a large question, and it would take an essay longer 
than this entire paper adequately to answer it. I raise the question 
partly to indicate the necessity of going back to more fundamental 
principles if we are to have any real philosophy of education, and 
partly to afford, in my answer, an illustration of the principle of social 
interpretation. I should say that geography has to do with all those 
aspects of social life which are concerned with the interaction of the 
life of man and nature ; or, that it has to do with the world considered 
as the scene of social interaction. Any fact, then, will be a geo- 
graphical fact in so far as it bears upon the dependence of man upon 
his natural environment, or with the changes introduced in this 
environment through the life- -of man. 

The four forms of geography referred to above represent, then, four 
increasing stages of abstraction in discussing the mutual relation of 
human life and nature. The beginning must be the commercial 
geography. I mean by this that the essence of any geographical fact 
is the consciousness of two persons, or two groups of persons, who 
are at once separated and connected by physical environment, and 
that the interest is in seeing how these people are at once kept apart 
and brought together in their actions by the instrumentality of this 
physical environment. The ultimate significance of lake, river, 



372 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

mountain, and plain is not physical, but social ; it is the part which 
it plays in modifying and functioning human relationship. This evi- 
dently involves an extension of the term commercial. It has not to 
do simply with business, in the narrow sense, but includes whatever 
relates to human intercourse and intercommunication as affected by 
natural forms and properties. Political geography represents this 
same social interaction taken in a static instead of in a dynamic way ; 
takes it, that is, as temporarily crystallized and fixed in certain form.s. 
Physical geography (including under this not simply physiography, 
but also the study of flora and fauna) represents a further analysis or 
abstraction. It studies the conditions which determine human 
action, leaving out of account, temporarily, the ways in which they 
concretely do this. Mathematical geography simply carries the 
analysis back to more ultimate and remote conditions, showing that 
the physical conditions themselves are not ultimate, but depend 
upon the place which the world occupies in a larger system. Here, 
in other words, we have traced, step by step, the hnks which connect 
the immediate social occupations and interactions of man back to 
the whole natural system which ultimately conditioned them. Step 
by step the scene is enlarged and the image of what enters into the 
make-up of social action is widened and broadened, but at no time 
ought the chain of connection to be broken. 

It is out of the question to take up the studies one by one and show 
that their meaning is similarly controlled by social consideration. 
But I cannot forbear a word or two upon history. History is vital 
or dead to the child according as it is or is not presented from the 
sociological standpoint. When treated simply as a record of what 
has passed and gone, it must be mechanical because the past, as the 
past, is remote. It no longer has existence and simply as past there 
is no motive for attending to it. The ethical value of history teach- 
ing will be measured by the extent to which it is treated as a matter 
of analysis of existing social relations — that is to say, as affording 
insight into what makes up the structure and working of society. 

This relation of history to comprehension of existing social forces 
is apparent whether we take it from the standpoint of social order 
or from that of social progress. Existing social structure is exceed- 
ingly complex. It is practically impossible for the child to attack it 
en masse and get any definite mental image of it. But type phases of 
historical development may be selected which will exhibit, as through 
a telescope, the essential constituents of the existing order. Greece, 
for example, represents what art and the growing power of individual 
expression stands for; Rome exhibits the political elements and 
determining forces of political life on a tremendous scale. Or, as 
these civilizations are themselves relatively complex, a study of still 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 373 

simpler forms of hunting, nomadic and agricultural life in the begin- 
nings of civiHzation ; a study of the effects of the introduction of iron, 
iron tools and so forth serves to reduce the existing complexity to its 
simple elements. 

One reason historical teaching is usually not more efifective is the 
fact that the student is set to acquire information in such a way that 
no epochs or factors stand out to his mind as typical ; everything is 
reduced to the same dead level. The only way of securing the neces- 
sary perspective is by relating the past to the present, as if the past 
■were a projected present in which all the elements are enlarged. 

The principle of contrast is as important as that of similarity. 
Because the present life is so close to us, touching us at every point, 
we cannot get away from it to see it as it really is. Nothing stands 
out clearly or sharply as characteristic. In the study of past periods 
attention necessarily attaches itself to striking differences. Thus the 
child gets a locus in imagination, through which he can remove him- 
self from the present pressure of surrounding circumstance and define it. 

History is equally available as teaching the methods of social progress. 
It is commonly stated that history must be studied from the stand- 
point of cause and effect. The truth of this statement depends upon 
its interpretation. Social Hfe is so complex and the various parts of 
it are so organically related to each other and to the natural environ- 
ment that it is impossible to say that this or that thing is the cause of 
some other particular thing. But what the study of history can 
effect is to reveal the main instruments in the way of discoveries, 
inventions, new modes of life, etc., which have initiated the great 
epochs of social advance, and it can present to the child's conscious- 
ness type illustrations of the main lines in which social progress has 
been made most easily and effectively and can set before him what 
the chief difficulties and obstructions have been. Progress is always 
rhythmic in its nature, and from the side of growth as well as from 
that of status or order it is important that the epochs which are 
t)^ical should be selected. This once more can be done only in so 
far as it is recognized that social forces in themselves are always the 
same — that the same kind of influences were at work one hundred 
and one thousand years ago that are now — and treating the par- 
ticular historical epochs as affording illustrations of the way in which 
the fundamental forces work. 

Everything depends, then, upon history being treated from a social 
standpoint, as manifesting the agencies which have influenced social 
development, and the typical institutions in which social life has 
expressed itself. The culture-epoch theory, while working in the 
right direction, has failed to recognize the importance of treating 
past periods with relation to the present — that is, as affording insight 



374 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

into the representative factors of its structure; it has treated these 
periods too much as if they had some meaning or value in themselves. 
The way in which the biographical method is handled illustrates the 
same point. It is often treated in such a way as to exclude from the 
child's consciousness (or at least not sufficiently to emphasize) the 
social forces and principles involved in the association of the masses 
of men. It is quite true that the child is interested easily in history 
from the biographical standpoint; but unless the hero is treated in 
relation to the community life behind him which he both sums up 
and directs, there is danger that the history will reduce itself to a 
mere story. When this is done, moral instruction reduces itself to 
drawing certain lessons from the life of the particular personalities 
concerned, instead of having widened and deepened the child's imagi- 
native consciousness of the social relationships, ideals and means 
involved in the world in which he lives. 

There is some danger, I presume, in simply presenting the illus- 
trations without more development, iDut I hope it will be remembered 
that I am not making these points for their own sake, but with refer- 
ence to the general principle that when history is taught as a mode 
of understanding social life, it has positive ethical import. What 
the normal child continuously needs is not so much isolated moral 
lessons instilling in him the importance of truthfulness and honesty, 
or the beneficent results that follow from some particular act of 
patriotism, etc. It is the formation of habits of social imagination 
and conception. I mean by this it is necessary that the child should 
be forming the habit of interpreting the special incidents that occur 
and the particular situations that present themselves in terms of the 
whole social life. The evils of the present industrial and political 
situation, on the ethical side, are not due so much to actual perverse- 
ness on the part of individuals concerned, nor to mere ignorance of 
what constitutes the ordinary virtues (such as honesty, industry, 
purity, etc.) as to inability to appreciate the social environment in 
which we live. It is tremendously complex and confused. Only a 
mind trained to grasp social situations, and to reduce them to their 
simpler and typical elements, can get sufficient hold on the realities 
of this life to see what sort of action, critical and constructive, it 
really demands. Most people are left at the mercy of tradition, 
impulse or the appeals of those who have special and class interests 
to serve. In relation to this highly complicated social environment, 
training for citizenship is formal and nominal unless it develops the 
power of observation, analysis and inference with respect to what 
makes up ,a social situation and the agencies through which it is 
modified. Because history rightly taught is the chief instrumentality 
for accomplishing this, it has an ultimate ethical value. 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 375 

I have been speaking so far of the school curriculum on the side 
of its content. I now turn to that of form, understanding by this 
term, as already explained, a consciousness of the instruments and 
methods which are necessary to the control of social movements. 
Studies cannot be classified into form studies and content studies. 
Every study has both sides. That is to say, it deals both with the 
actual make-up of society, and is concerned with the tools or ma- 
chinery by which society maintains itself. Language and literature 
best illustrate the impossibility of separation. Through the ideas 
contained in language, the continuity of the social structure is effected. 
From this standpoint the study of literature is a content study. But 
language is also distinctly a means, a tool. It not simply has social 
value in itself, but is a social instrument. However, in some studies 
one side or the other predominates very much, and in this sense we 
may speak of specifically form studies; as for example, mathematics. 

My illustrative proposition at this point is that mathematics does, 
or does not, accomplish its full ethical purpose according as it is pre- 
sented, or not presented, as such a social tool. The prevailing divorce 
between information and character, between knowledge and social 
action, stalks upon the scene here. The moment mathematical study 
is severed from the place which it occupies with reference to use in 
social life, it becomes unduly abstract, even from the purely intellec- 
tual side. It is presented as a matter of technical relations and 
formulae apart from any end or use. What the study of numbers 
suffers from in elementary education is the lack of motivation. Back 
of this and that and the other particular bad method is the radical 
mistake of treating number as if it were an end in itself instead of as 
a means of accomplishing some end. Let any child get a conscious- 
ness of what the use of number is, of what it really is for, and half 
the battle is won. Now this consciousness of the use or reason im- 
plies some active end in view which is always implicitly social, since 
it involves the production of something which may be of use to others, 
and which is often explicitly social. 

One of the absurd things in the more advanced study of arithmetic 
is the extent to which the child is introduced to numerical operations 
which have no distinctive mathematical principles characterizing 
them, but which represent certain general principles found in business 
relationships. To train the child in these operations, while paying 
no attention to the business realities in which they will be of use, 
and the conditions of social life which make these business activities 
necessary, is neither arithmetic nor common sense. The child is 
called upon to do examples in interest, partnership, banking, broker- 
age, and so on through a long string, and no pains are taken to see 
that, in connection with the arithmetic, he has any sense of the social 



376 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

realities involved. This part of arithmetic is essentially sociological in its 
nature. It ought either to be omitted entirely or else taught in connec- 
tion with a study of the relevant social reahties. As we now manage the 
study, it is the old case of learning to swim apart from the water over 
again, with correspondingly bad results on the practical and ethical side. 

I am afraid one question still haunts the reader. What has all 
this discussion about geography, history and number, whether from 
the side of content or that of form, got to do with the underlying 
principles of education? The very reasons which induce the reader 
to put this question to himself, even in a half-formed way, illustrate 
the point which I am trying to make. Our conceptions of the ethical 
in education have been too narrow, too formal and too pathological. 
We have associated the term "ethical" with certain special acts which 
are labeled virtues and set off from the mass of other acts, and still 
more from the habitual images and motives in the agents perform- 
ing them. Moral instruction is thus associated with teaching about 
these particular virtues, or with instilling certain sentiments in regard 
to them. The ethical has been conceived in too goody-goody a way. 
But it is not such ethical ideas and motives as these which keep men 
at work in recognizing and performing their moral duty. Such 
teaching as this, after all is said and done, is external; it does not 
reach down into the depths of the character-making agency. Ulti- 
mate moral motives and forces are nothing more or less than social 
intelligence — the power of observing and comprehending social situa- 
tions — and social power — trained capacities of control — at work 
in the service of social interest and aims. There is no fact which throws 
light upon the constitution of society; there is no power whose train- 
ing adds to social resourcefulness which is not ethical in its bearing. 

I sum up, then, by asking attention to the moral trinity of the 
school. The demand is for social intelligence, social power and 
social interests. Our resources are (i) the life of the school as a 
social institution in itself; (2) methods of learning and of doing 
work ; and (3) the school studies or curriculum. In so far as the 
school represents, in its own spirit, a genuine community Hfe; in so 
far as what are called school discipline, government, order, etc., are 
the expressions of this inherent social spirit; in so far as the methods 
used are those which appeal to the active and constructive powers, 
permitting the child to give out, and thus to serve ; in so far as the 
curriculum is so selected and organized as to provide the material 
for affording the child a consciousness of the world in which he has 
to play a part, and the relations he has to meet; in so far as these 
ends are met, the school is organized on an ethical basis. 

J. Dewey. Extracts from "Ethical Principles underlying Education," in The 
Third Yearbook of the National Heriart Society. . 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 377 



Social Significance of Self-organized Group Work 

There is something of a contrast between the biological organism 
and the organization of individuals called society. In the body the 
cell unit is, for the most part, permanent in place and hereditarily 
fixed in function. With the higher animals substitution of function 
among the different parts is very rare, and most apparent in the brain, 
which is the organ immediately subserving social action. The case 
is quite different in all highly developed societies. Here individuals 
move freely from one position to another, and constantly change their 
roles, sometimes to a very great extent. For America especially, this 
feature is fundamental) and characteristic. The successful mule driver 
of to-day may be the successful President of to-morrow. Every kind 
of equality of opportunity for each and all is, as we are never tired of 
saying, the presupposition and the aim of democracy. 

Such interchange or development of social function is impossible 
without the greatest plasticity on the part of individuals. This 
plasticity, however, while it has a biological basis, is useful only as it 
is played upon by society. Habits of social action, not so permanent 
that they may not be changed if occasion demands, must be formed 
and used in building up the structure of society. The social situation 
in which a person finds himself, or the group with which he is in con- 
tact, has thus the most to do with his role or function in society and 
his success in life. The family in which the average individual is 
brought up has usually even more to do with his serviceableness to 
society than the one in which he is bom. No doubt the possibilities 
must be latent in the individual, but different grouping with quite 
similar material produces entirely different results. 

If, then, we are to educate the children of democracy, it is the nature 
of the groups in which they work7--the varying constitution and de- 
velopment of these, and the repercussion of them on the constituent 
individuals, which form the most important element in the process. 

The group or society of which the teacher aims to be the leader and 
inspirer from a social standpoint is usually more or less of a mere 
aggregate, rather than an organization. There is every reason why the 
teacher should aim to organize this aggregate. In no other way can he 
become really the leader. When this is not done, the aggregate does 
not remain in a neutral condition. Organization sets in, independently 
of the teacher. It is not always fully conscious of itself, but it is none 
the less influential. Certain boys or girls are looked to by others for 
guidance, and become centers of disturbance. They are watched 
by the others for indications as to how far the class as a whole may go 
in opposition to the teacher. Sometimes there are chiefs for war 
and chiefs for peace. When a teacher runs against such a chief, it is 



378 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

no longer an individual he is dealing with, and even when he finds 
fault with some humble member of the tribe, unless the chief consents 
to ignore or to condone the treatment given, the teacher may meet 
with as much difi&culty and silent antagonism as if the individual had 
been socially important. The flag of the tribe protects its feeblest 
member. 

Frequently more than one such group or clique can be found in a 
class, and although there may be some rivalry, there is usually a 
status quo. Those not in any group are left over, either as the teacher's 
pets, or as the offscouring of the class. When groups have once 
formed, the teacher who does not realize it is lost. His best resource 
is in some way to get hold of the leaders. In old-fashioned schools 
leadership was often determined by actual fighting. If the teacher 
" licked " the leader, he had the rest of the school. In modern city 
schools, leadership is a good deal more subtle, and the appeal to force, 
by calling in the head master, or by physical punishment for offenses, 
is not very effective. The group still remains loyal, and treats the 
punishment as an act of war. This is just because such punishment 
is not at all a fight in which personal address and vigor have any part. 
The teacher, on the contrary, is merely calling in the organized force 
of the community of adults to which he belongs. This is known to 
be superior to any form of frontal attack. Guerrilla warfare is all that 
is possible. 

It is the impression of the present writer, due to a fairly wide ex- 
perience of schools, both in the East and West, that at least 50 per 
cent of the higher-grade classes in the public schools are, to a greater 
or less extent, in such a state of antagonism to the teacher. This is 
not always carried so far as to prevent a certain kind of work from 
being done. The teacher may be respected as one would respect an 
oflScer of an opposing army, but he is not in any real sense a leader. 
It is also to be noted that the members of the children's groups, taken 
individually, have usually nothing criminal or even unsocial about 
them. It is the group to which they belong, rather than their own 
personality, which determines their conduct. Such organizations, 
however, even when largely instinctive and unconscious, are a menace 
to the best interests of the children, who, no matter what their achieve- 
ments may be in reading, writing and arithmetic, are getting an edu- 
cation in hostility to many of the best things in society as a whole. 
In some way the teacher must creep into or break into this child com- 
munity, if he is to lead it out of its narrowness and set it on the way 
to a higher development. 

Sometimes the doors open by accident, and the teacher, if he reaUzes 
it, may enter naturally. A case told me by a distinguished Boston 
educator of his own experience when teacher of a ninth grade will 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 379 

illustrate this point. A case of discipline had arisen, and the teacher 
said to a certain boy, " Well, there is no doubt that I shall have to 
punish you." The boy replied in the presence of the class, " Oh, yes, 
punish me; you're always down on me." This touched the teacher, 
and, being human enough to flare up, he said impulsively : " I'll leave 
it to the rest if you don't deserve it. More than that, I'll turn my 
face to the wall, and they can vote without my seeing them, and I'll 
never ask a boy how he has voted." The vote was reported to the 
teacher as unanimously in favor of the boy's being punished. At 
this point the boy broke down completely, and through his tears said, 
" Well, it must be right, since everybody says so." 

The interesting and significant feature of this experience is the effect 
of the class sentiment on the boy. His attitude of defiance in the first 
place was evidently conditioned by his thought that the class was 
back of him ; and, indeed, so it might have been but for the action of 
the teacher. The case throws a strong hght on the real nature of 
punishment. This is never the mere infliction of pain or other incon- 
venience. With a desirable social backing boys are proud of these 
signs of prowess. Although they may suffer, and sometimes give vent 
to the natural expression of their suffering, they are no more guided 
by this in their future action than is a martyr on the rack. Punish- 
ment is the disapproval and repression of the group one feels he be- 
longs to. Nothing else is punishment. It may sometimes require 
a rite or ceremony Kke the administration of pain to make it under- 
stood and to show that it is serious, but it is the spirit of exclusion which 
is the reality back of this physical expression. Indeed, the infliction 
of some more or less revengeful pain often has the effect of reconcile- 
ment. By this act the community still remains in contact with its 
recalcitrant member. It puts him in a position where his fellows ob- 
serve him closely. He is the central figure of the tragedy. The others 
watch him and imagine how he is feeling. If he acts in such a way 
as to awaken sympathy either by heroism or by more or less dignified 
humility and repentance, the hate of the commimity generally turns 
to a degree of admiration, and the pimishment is over. Capital 
punishment, unless where the imagination carries the drama into the 
next world, is thus the only form which is quite hopeless from this stand- 
point. 

When a teacher administers punishment or reproof, it is absolutely 
necessary that he carry with him the best sentiment of the class. He 
can do this on ordinary occasions, at least, only if the punishment 
be applied to prevent hindrances, not to such activities as the teacher 
thinks are desirable, but to those which the class can be made sincerely 
to approve. To get in sight of the solution of such a problem, no mere 
knowledge of individuals as such, or course of study, however excellent, 



380 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

will ever suffice. It is the social action of the class, the nature of the 
groups really at work, their aims and ideals, their leadership and 
organization, which the teacher must find an opportunity to study, and, 
if possible, to modify or control. 

The most reasonable way out of the difficulties we have described 
would seem to be, not to hand over the strictly governmental functions 
to the children, although this may sometimes partially succeed, but 
to make some suitable opportunity in the regular work of the school 
for real leadership and organization on their part. If this phase of 
work is to exclude the use of force, it must find an opening into the 
course of study. It must not be relegated to off days, Friday after- 
noons, or to the home or the street, but must be represented on the 
time-table. As we have seen, the leadership of the antagonistic class 
groups does not depend much, in modern city schools at least, on the 
use of force. These groups are attractive enough to hold themselves 
together without it. If, now, we can bring out the leadership involved 
in these mistaken efforts of the children, and use the force at the dis- 
posal of the teacher to foster and protect the organizations that would 
be formed, the class would get a lively sense of the benefits springing 
from the teacher's power, and would be more disposed to admit its 
use on other occasions. The leaders themselves would get an op- 
portunity for a full swing, and they would get this in the presence of 
the teacher, and with his approbation and consent. The teacher 
might, to some extent, become a follower in some groups, and offer 
advice and opinions which might not always be accepted by the leader. 

Indeed, if this did not sometimes happen, two alternatives would 
arise. Either the teacher would stand off and merely observe at a 
distance the operations of the group, or there would be a feeling on the 
part of the children that the teacher after all was the real leader of 
the group. Both of these alternatives would be fatal to this phase 
of education. The teacher needs to get into the groups as much as 
possible, but by no means as an authoritative leader or organizer. 
His advice must have no more weight than its evident good sense 
and its capability of furthering the real interests of the children will 
afford. When the class reverts to the previous condition of affairs, 
and when the teacher becomes again the director, he will have an 
entirely different community to deal with. Not only will he have 
discovered some of the natural leaders (and who they are may often 
be a surprise to him), but he will have been able to learn a good deal 
about how the followers are influenced. Best of all, he will be regarded 
by the leaders as one of themselves. If he is broad enough to allow 
his newly acquired experience to modify his old habits, they will 
be disposed to study his methods of leadership rather than to continue 
to waste energy in warfare. They remain conscious of the power in 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 381 

them, which is shortly again to have opportunity for exercise and dis- 
play. Under such conditions the latent, underground kind of organiza- 
tion may find a normal outlet, an opportunity to become more con- 
scious and progressive, and at the same time it may provide the 
teacher with a natural opening into the heart of the children's social 
life. 

As will be seen, it is not a revolutionary or radical change of all 
school procedure which the introduction of self -organized purpose 
groups would bring about. Such a change means rather a conserva- 
tion and development of the educational values that are already to 
be found in the real leadership of the teacher, although leadership on 
the part of many of the students would also be made possible. 

It might be asked, though hardly by practical people, why, if a 
given attitude or relationship between pupil and teacher is a good and 
social thing for one part of the day, something different is needed for 
another; or, if a teacher can catch the spirit of true leadership which 
makes room for all the children as active and constructive followers, 
why he should not continue to lead throughout. This true leadership 
is of course excellent, but it will come much more surely and naturally 
as a result of the observation of children's independent groups than 
it ever can without them. For the very lowest grades, however, such 
an attitude is probably all that can be expected. But, as we have 
already tried to show, the true constructive power of a follower can- 
not be measured when he is under the direction of another, nor is it to 
be expected in a democratic society that leadership should be confined 
to one or a few. We often hear that he who would command must 
first learn to obey. Nothing could be truer, except its converse, 
that he who would obey in spirit and in truth must also know how to 
command. There is no individual in a democratic community who 
has not found it necessary, on occasion, to direct others. This direc- 
tion may not apply to many at a time, and it may not be for long, but 
when the opportunity comes, much more depends upon his action than 
when he played a follower's role. At present our society suffers more 
from the lack of true leadership, and the kind of insight and morality 
necessary for such a function, than from any other fault. The leader 
is so scarce that an undue premium is placed upon him. This shows 
itself strikingly in commerce as in politics, where the wage of even 
blundering leaders forms an enormous tax upon the community. 

With greater practical experience and insight into what leadership 
really means, we may hope to produce more competent leaders to select 
from and more intelligent followers to select them. Besides being 
a test and measure of the capacity of the social work of the teacher 
to live and maintain itself when his direction is removed, the self- 
organized group ought to afford a direct means of education designed 



382 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

to touch the democratic problem at the point of its culminating service 
to the community at large. 

The reader has now before him some of the social needs which 
free, self-organized work would go far toward satisfying. In each 
of the three schools studied in the previous chapters, we found elements 
of a high degree of social value, and an approximate solution of the 
problem of educative social organization. Space prevents us from 
studying other schools in detail, although one of them at least, the 
Ethical Culture School of New York, founded by Felix Adler, has 
arrived under Mr. Manny, its recent superintendent, at a high degree 
of social efficiency, and would amply repay investigation. We must, 
however, hurry on to the problem of the average grade school of the 
times, and attempt to show how it is possible, even with crowded 
classes and without special equipment, to obtain in the people's schools 
those cooperative and self-sustaining motives which are worthy of 
democracy and best able to measure the teacher's work. 

The experiences to be described may be called experiments, but not 
in the sense that they were instituted merely to see how they would 
turn out. They were experiments simply in the sense that all life 
is experimental, and were devised with the view that the development 
of intention and resourcefulness on the part of the pupil is the greatest 
and most undeniable duty of any form of education. They are not, 
however, the outcome of any particular a priori theory of either in- 
dividual or social action, and they have, therefore, the character of 
scientific data, from which useful generaUzations may be made, capable 
of carrying both thought and practice into larger fields. The natural- 
ness of the data is shown by the fact that in different schools, and in 
the same schools from year to year, a given piece of work is never 
repeated. As some one has said, " Constant change is the unchang- 
ing lay of humanity." Different conditions and different children 
always produce different results. There has been nothing to justify 
any expectation that we should ever be able to obtain by our experi- 
ments an ideal course of study capable of being handed over to other 
schools. There was no hope that we should ever be able to stereotype 
the results in textbooks and fix them upon the brains of a rising gen- 
eration. 

The experiments naturally start from a background of dictated 
work derived from the usual course of study, and it was always a con- 
dition that no work was to be permitted, the plan of which the teacher 
did not approve ; although after it was started it might fail or succeed 
without the teacher's stepping in to bolster it up or to coerce its sup- 
porters. There never was any likelihood that in the lowest grades, 
at least, the children's self-organized work would absorb the whole 
of the school work or all the time on the program. Dictated work 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 383 

which the teacher leads directly, and courses of study, however much 
they may be modified, will always be needed to some extent in the 
education of the young. 

Several years ago the present writer, in cooperation with two third- 
grade teachers in the Chicago and Cook Country Normal School (Miss 
Margaret Mclntyre and Miss Jessie Black), introduced the proposition 
of self-organized work to their pupils. Each teacher said to her class, 
with as much simplicity as was possible, something like the following : 
" If you had time given you for something that you enjoy doing, and 
that you think worth while, what should you choose to do? When 
you have decided how you would spend the time, come and tell me 
about your plan. You may come all together, or in groups, or each 
by himself ; but whatever you say you want to do, you must tell the 
length of time you will need to finish it, and how you expect to do it." 

We thus called for a plan as definite as possible, both as to time and 
materials. It was understood that if the teacher could not be con- 
vinced that the plan was feasible, or that it was sufficiently worth 
while, she would not allow it to begin. 

At first in one class there was but a single plan. This started with 
three boys, eight or nine years of age, who said they wanted to print. 
'* How can you print? " the teacher asked. " We have no printing 
press." " Oh, yes ; Harry here (the real names are not used) has 
a press that his father gave him at Christmas, and if you will let us, 
we'll print a list of those hard words, the names of the days of the 
week, which you gave the class to spell. We will place a copy on the 
desk of every pupil, and you will see how quickly they will learn them." 
"How long will it take you?" the teacher inquired. "Three, or 
perhaps four half -hours. We can divide up the work so that we think 
we can get it done in that time." 

The teacher gave the period from 11.30 to 12 on Monday, Wednes- 
day and Friday. They chose the back of the room to work in, 
and they agreed to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the rest 
of the class, which meanwhile was doing such work as the boys could 
best afford to miss. They succeeded admirably, and completed their 
work within the time specified. When they were fairly at work, the 
rest of the class woke up, and the teacher was presented with a number 
of plans, many of them of a very mushroom character, devised mainly 
to escape the regular work of that hour. But when the teacher asked 
in detail about the plans, how long they would take to finish, etc., 
these latter were spontaneously given up by the children, or enlarged so 
that they had become more practical. After the printing group had 
finished their first contract, they still kept together with the idea of 
becoming class printers when needed. 

In the other third-grade class a similar group was started, which 



384 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

soon took in more boys who wanted to join. On one occasion the 
teacher found that they were not doing what they had planned for 
that day. She asked them what was the matter, and pointed out that 
if they did not do what they said they would, they would have to go 
back to their seats. They had a little consultation among themselves, 
and decided that there were too many in the group for the work to be 
done, and that they interfered with one another instead of helping. 
The group was thinned by its own action, and the work was finished 
successfully. This group also kept on for some time, and printed a 
number of things for the class. Here is a sample of their work: — 

Criticism of Report of Group 2 on Beef Tea 

The Group did not know all they should know about it. 
It was worth giving. 

Some time after the beginning of these groups, and when nearly 
the whole class was engaged in one or another of them. Professor 
Albion Small paid them a visit. One of the boys said to him : " Look 
at those girls cooking. Now I don't see the good of that. But this 
work is just the thing for me. I am a very poor speller, and every 
word I set up I learn to spell." This group interested some of the 
families from which the boys came, for they were never tired of talk- 
ing of it at home. One of the fathers, although a working man, con- 
tributed fonts of type to the value of $15. Pieces of work were taken 
home, and their merits and defects fully criticized. These printing 
groups had a leader, although he was not given any special name. 

In one class three cooking groups were started. The first of these 
was started to cook — " just to eat," as one of the members stated. 
It was at first composed of four girls and one boy. The initial prep- 
arations required a good deal of management. The mothers had 
to be persuaded to give money or material. One girl brought an old 
gas oven, and another a heater on which it was placed ; also a table 
had to be provided, and shelves for dishes. An attachment had to be 
made in order to use the gas. For this the permission of the principal 
of the school was required, and how best to approach him was care- 
fully considered by the group. Books of recipes were obtained, and 
although the reading was difiicult for third-grade pupils, much 
reading was done and the merits of different recipes were discussed. 
A cake was finally decided upon. I was called in as a guest when the 
cake was finished, and since it was a sacrament of friendship, I did 
my best to eat my piece. As we were sitting around, the boy said 
between his mouthfuls, " It seems to me this cake ain't as good as it 
ought to be." " What's the matter with it? " was the rather sharp 
retort of the little girl who was the leader of the group. The boy, 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 385 

who was phlegmatic, repHed without a ruffle, " Well, maybe it's the 
butter ; it might have been butterine." " You bought the butter," 
said the little girl. The boy said nothing, but later he went to the 
grocery store where he had bought it, and asked if it was butterine. 
The grocer, probably vexed, said among other things, " If you don't 
like the butter, perhaps you'd better write to the Health Department." 
When the boy came back to school, he asked the teacher, " What is 
the Health Department, and what did the man mean by saying I'd 
better write ? " The teacher told him, and said that perhaps it would 
be a good thing to write. 

This he did, and got back a sheaf of pamphlets. Most of them were 
too difficult for him, but in one was a marked passage telling how to 
test for butterine by noting the rate of melting. The whole group 
was so interested in this that they stopped cooking and started in on 
the test for butterine. They were quite successful, and they used the 
test on several occasions afterwards. 

By this time they had decided to keep all the recipes they used, 
and each made a cookbook for his or her own use. They obtained 
rubber stamps and " printed " these recipes, and although it became 
somewhat Uke drudgery later on, they insisted that no member of 
the group should shirk that part of the work. The experiment with 
the butterine was also printed in their cookbooks. This is the way it 
ran (grams were used because the children could get no other weights 
in the school. The directions called simply for equal weights) : 

Experiment with Butterine 

5 grams butterine melted in 66 seconds. 

5 grams butter melted in 60 seconds. 

5 grams lard melted in 39 seconds. 

5 grams of tallow melted in 629 seconds. 

Test for butterine. Butterine smells bad when it melts because it 
has tallow and lard in it. 

It sputters when it melts because it has tallow in it. It melts slower 
than butter. 

Meantime, the children had seen in a window a man binding books, 
and they thought that it would be a good plan to have their cookbooks 
bound. They visited the bookbinder, and he showed them how to 
stitch the leaves together and make a stiff cover. As a consequence 
they all bound their books, an art which was copied by some of the 
other groups that needed it. 

After several experiments in cooking, the necessity of having their 
plans made the night before, so that every one would know what to 
bring for the next day, was seen to be so important that the group 



386 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

decided to have a chairman, whose duty it would be to see that this 
was done. The original leader was, without debate, made chairman. 
The term " chairman " was attractive, and was copied by some of 
the other groups, but in a few cases, after being used, it was discarded, 
the children saying : " What do we want a chairman for? Every one 
knows what to do, anyway." In the cooking group, however, the 
chairman was a necessity. 

The third or fourth thing that they wanted to cook was Charlotte 
Russe. When the group assembled there were no lady fingers. These 
were to have been brought by the boy. Since the cooking could not 
be carried on that day, the children had to go back to their seats and 
do some work which the teacher outlined for them. They were very 
much vexed at the boy and talked of asking him to leave the group. 
The boy said, however, that the fault was not his, but his mother's. 
His mother had told him that she was tired of giving him money all 
the time. 

The group then went to the teacher about the mother problem. 
They wanted her to write to the mothers and say that they were to 
send the things the children asked for. The teacher did not look at 
the question in this light, and said she did not think that she could 
write to the mothers, since the group work was their own affair, in 
which they must depend upon themselves. They talked the matter 
over again, and the chairman finally said : " Well, it wasn't Harold's 
fault. It never would have happened if we hadn't let Harold bring 
so many things that cost money. For all the things we have cooked 
he has brought more than any of the rest of us. What we want to do 
is to get it evened up. Then those who can't bring money can bring 
eggs or butter or sugar, but no one should have to bring more than his 
share." 

They perceived very clearly what they wanted, but they did not see 
the means by which it was to be accomplished. So they went to the 
teacher with the difficulty. " The recipes," they said, " give things 
by cupfuls or spoonfuls, while these same things are l30ught by the 
pound." The teacher pointed out to them that they could get, for 
instance, a pound of sugar and find out how many cupfuls were in it 
and then divide the cost of the pound by the number of cupfuls. This 
idea they grasped at once. But after they had got the cost of material 
by the cupful, they did not see how it could be divided evenly among 
the pupils. The teacher again showed them the simple averaging that 
was necessary, and although averaging is not usually introduced into 
the third grades, and they were never shown again, they used this 
method constantly and without errors throughout the rest of their 
work. The plan of the chairman to meet the mother problem turned 
out to be quite successful. 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 387 

This cooking group, as it was first formed, was very harmonious, 
and the resistance that they had to overcome was almost wholly from 
the outside. It was the introduction of a new member which started 
friction and gave rise to internal resistances which for a time hampered 
the success of the work. A new pupil appeared in the grade, and as 
she was a merry, black-eyed little thing with attractive ways, she had 
an invitation to join from every one of the groups then organized. 
Of all these invitations she accepted the one from the group that were 
cooking " just to eat." 

It was not long before trouble appeared. Bessy was constantly 
forgetting things. The chairman mothered her, pinning slips of paper 
on her coat to remind her, etc., all to no purpose. She would lick 
cream off spoons, refuse to wash dishes, etc., and, since the group were 
now in a little room by themselves, would act noisily, so that the rest 
of the group were afraid that their privileges might be withdrawn. At 
last they came to the teacher and complained, asking her to put 
Bessy out of the group. The teacher said : " I did not invite her, you 
know, to join yoiu" group ; but I am very willing to do what I can. 
Just now, however, I have a meeting, and you'll have to wait here an 
horn* till I return ; then we can talk it all over." When she came back 
the children were gone, but on her desk was a note asking her to give 
the following papers, one from each member of the group, to Bessy. 

" I think Bessy talks too much and I think she plays round the room 
too much, and I think she makes too much noise, Bessy did not bring 
her things while the others did to cook with. And she did not stay to 
print at nights after school only once or twice. She would not help 
wash the dishes. Then we told her we would put her out if she did not 
do the work, and we thought we could do better without her. Then 
she brought her things and helped wash the dishes, but she quarreled 
so. — L. " 

" I think that Bessy ought to get out of the group because she wants 
everything. — Harold. " 

" Bessy plays tag and she says, ' This is mine, this is mine.' And she 
is always fussing all the time. I think she ought to be put out of the 
group. — M. " 

" I think we could get along better in the group without Bessy because 
she talks too much, and disturbs us too much and we can't do so 
much work. And she wants to do all the work and no one else to do 
any of the work ; she wants to do all the cooking. I think she should 
be put out. — M." 

" Bessy plays tag when we are cooking and she is too fussy, and I 
think she talks too much and too loud and she is too noisy and she is 
always fussing and quarreling with the other children, and I think she 
ought to be put out of the group. — B. " 



388 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

"I think Bessy should be put out of the group because she does not 
help in printing and when we cook she quarrels with us. — S. " 

The papers were handed to Bessy as the children had requested. 
After reading them she took up her pen and wrote the following reply, 
in which it will be noted the beginning does not hang very well with 
the admissions at the end. 

" Well, what I think about it, I have always brought the things they 
told me to bring and when they told me to print I have always done it. 
And to the other school we would talk so loud and I am so used to it. 
If they put me back again I would do lots better than I did before and 
I would bring the things they would tell me to and I would bring 
everything when they told me to and I would do everything. " 

They did not, however, take her back, nor was she ever invited into 
any other group while she remained in the school, a fact which did 
not seem to depress her in the least. Her family moved again before 
the end of the term, and Bessy departed with them. 

The teacher asked the children why they had written the papers. 
The chairman replied that if one person told Bessy that the group didn't 
want her any more, she would be mad with that person (who probably 
would have been the chairman), and more than that, she might cry; 
while now there was no one in particular to be mad at, and if she 
wanted to cry, she could cry by herself. 

To the student of government it is interesting to see how the children 
went to the teacher when it was a matter probably involving force. 
They wished to use the policeman power of the teacher to insure Bessy's 
removal. This, in case of any refusal on her part to leave, would natu- 
rally have been exercised. In the same way a clergyman or member 
of a church who is voted out is compelled to respect this decision by 
force of law if in no other way. The law, however, stands outside of 
the organization itself. 

The method of writing on serious occasions was copied by some of 
the other groups. The following papers from another working group 
indicate a happier termination. 

1 . " Mildred as chairman. Mildred is not chairman and she wants to 
boss everything. I like her, but I do not want her to do everything. — 
L." 

2. "What we think about Mildred. I think that Mildred is too 
bossy. I think that we ought to write to her and tell her what we 
think. She made a good chairman whether she bossed us or not, but 
she bossed us too much. — S." 

Mildred replies as follows : — 

"I think that what Sarah and Lila said was all right. I think that 
we will get along all right now and a good deal better. I think that 
the money is fixed. I think that we are going to have a better soup." 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 389 

There was no doubt that Mildred had been bossy. We wondered 
indeed that the children had stood it so long. After this for a week 
Mildred was a marvel of self-control, but it wore on her and she per- 
suaded her comrades to take turns in the chairmanship. Neither of 
them, however, had anything Uke the natural executive ability of 
Mildred, and they did not succeed so well. Nevertheless, Mildred 
made no comment. When it was her turn again, the others asked her 
to be chairman all the time, and to this she consented. She at times 
broke out in the old ways, but the others bore with it, and she herself 
was evidently anxious to improve in this respect. It can hardly be 
doubted that all the members of the group had in this experience a 
real lesson in ethics much more practical and persuasive than any 
formal instruction. 

The third cooking group in this room was composed wholly of boys. 
They said : " We don't want to cook as these girls do. But if any one 
should be sick in the house, then we should like to be able to cook 
something." In accordance with this, the first thing they attempted 
to cook was beef tea. They inquired into everything that made the 
beef tea nutritious. They were told that it should not look gray when 
it was done, as that shows that the albumen in the meat, which is the 
same substance as the white of an egg, has become hardened and cannot 
be digested so quickly. They beat out of pieces of meat some of the 
juice and compared it with the white of an egg at the teacher's sugges- 
tion. They were perfectly free, however, not to do this if they did not 
wish to. This group did not last as long as the others, but broke up 
voluntarily, the boys joining other groups formed for other purposes. 

During the year this class formed only fourteen groups. Among 
them were a photograph group, a group for modeling in clay, two sew- 
ing groups, two science groups, one printing group, and two groups for 
plays. The work of these groups was usually carried forward to a 
considerable degree of success. 

The photographic group was composed of several boys. They fitted 
up a closet as a dark room. They were always looking for information 
on photography, and teachers often brought them books and pamph- 
lets. To some extent they were photographers for the class, and they 
took photographs of some of the plays and made lantern slides for them. 
After they had been at work for several weeks the rest of the class 
wanted them to tell them something of their work. The group were a 
little doubtful about the capacity of the others to understand, but the 
leader thought of something which he believed would help in this re- 
spect. During the period for group work he fitted up his camera and 
focused it on some buildings opposite. He then called out, one after 
another, each member of the class, made him put his head under the 
cloth, and asked him, " What do you see ? " " I see the buildings up- 



39© SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

side down." " Do you want to know why it's like that? If you do, 
we're going to show you next time." 

This they did, explaining how the rays of light cross one another in 
the lens. The boys of this group kept a record of their work, and, as 
with the cooking group, bound it in a book. One boy made a small 
pinhole camera, which, without any lens, took some very fair photo- 
graphs. 

One of the plays given in this room was " The Sleeping Beauty." 
There was no dramatic version of this tale that the children knew of. 
They brought to school all the different editions of the story they could 
find, and started to turn it into dramatic form. This they did by 
arranging the cast first. " You may be the prince, and you the queen," 
etc. The members of the cast then began to extemporize the words. 
The action was thus first thought of. As they went on rehearsing, 
different members of the group would criticize the words used, saying, 
" That doesn't sound right." They avoided using big words or hard 
phrases from the book. They divided the story into scenes, made the 
costumes and strung a curtain on a wire in front of the teacher's desk. 
They used the blackboard as scenery, drawing on it the castle seen 
through a forest. To bring this in, a scene was invented which con- 
sisted of the prince inquiring of two coimtrymen his way to the castle. 
It was not until after the play had been nearly fixed in its final form 
that they began to write it down. By this time there were changes 
suggested and accepted about which a dispute would sometimes arise 
afterwards, but one of the main reasons for writing was pride in the 
play. One of the boys of this group was very desirous of learning 
tjrpewriting. He brought an old machine to school, and, among other 
things, made a typewritten copy of the play. . . . 

This plan created great interest in the homes, and the teacher was 
surprised to receive many requests from the mothers and other members 
of the family for permission to see it when presented. This, of course, 
was granted, and the simplicity of the play, with all the earmarks of 
genuine child production, was thoroughly appreciated by the audience. 

The attitude of the teachers with relation to this play was the same 
as in the other groups. I may perhaps call myself one of the teachers, 
for I came into the room very frequently while the children were re- 
hearsing. I used to think over what I had seen the day before, and 
see if I could add anything or offer any suggestion that the children 
would take up. Sometimes the children would say, " That's right, 
let's do it that way," but at other times they would shake their heads 
and say, No. It was at first a little disconcerting to be overruled, 
especially in matters where I was quite sure I was artistically correct ; 
but I was consoled by the reflection that only those criticisms which 
they freely and voluntarily accepted were the ones which entirely 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 391 

suited their stage of development, and when they rejected modifications 
of my proposing I saw that ethically, if not artistically, they were right. 
I felt that they were standing on their own feet with perfect honesty 
of conviction. Indeed, until they refused to do something which I 
had recommended, I was never quite sure that they were really inde- 
pendent. I knew, too, that it was a better example, to their minds, of 
real service to them than if I had insisted on my proposals. 

To come in contact with realities in a child is the most attractive 
thing about teaching. It is these reaUties which we admire in chil- 
dren, and which afford the greatest pleasure to parents in their contact 
with them. In schools of the usual sort most of this naive originality 
is overruled and crushed. It is feared that it may lead to lack of dis- 
cipline, and, moreover, where the initiative flows continuously from 
the teacher, there is Httle room for it, and it comes out accidentally, 
if at all. The teacher thus robs himself of a great part of the pleasure 
of his work, becomes formal, " teachery," and at the same time blinds 
himself to the real capacities of the children. 

The time which was at first allowed for this work was, as already 
said, three half-hours a week, but after a short time many of the groups 
began to say to the teacher that they wished they could have more 
time. They were sure that they could do a great deal better, if the 
time were extended. The teacher repHed that she was not sure that 
every group could use the time well, and since it was a matter that 
concerned the whole class, she could not extend the time unless she was 
sure of this. The children used part of their group-work time to dis- 
cuss this, and convinced the teacher that all would be benefited. 
She accordingly extended the time, at first two half-hour periods, 
and later on, after further requests, to three quarters of an hour per 
day. This contented the children of this age completely. Their 
power to plan seemed to be entirely used, and after this they never 
asked to have more time. The teacher noticed also that they were 
better satisfied to be carried along by her in work of her planning 
during the rest of the day than ever they had been before. 

From my experience with six third-grade classes, I can say that 
no class ever asked for more time than an hour a day. These experi- 
ences thus show with a certain degree of conclusiveness that there is a 
distinct limit beyond which the children are not able to go. Whether 
it would always be best to go so far as this limit is not asserted. 
In the case cited it seemed, in view of the best interests and total 
work of the class, the wisest thing to do. The teacher constantly kept 
in mind the detail problems of her grade, particularly reading, writ- 
ing and arithmetic. Many of the groups directly promoted interest 
and progress in the routine subjects, so that the class made as good ad- 
vance along these lines as any class had previously done. Leaving 



392 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

aside the higher concerns of character, resourcefulness and social 
organization, the teacher felt that, from the lower standpoint of 
subject matter alone, the time allowed was amply justified. 

In this class there were four children who were never in any group. 
They did not desire to join any, and the teacher gave them work to do 
by themselves. They were all physically rather inert, and were always 
pleased to do as well as they could anything that the teacher directed. 

In the other class, during this year, instead of fourteen groups 
there were thirty-eight formed, and there was no child who was not 
in one or more of these groups. This was in a class of fifty children, 
so that the percentage of leadership was high, probably over sixty 
per cent, — if we allow for some who were leaders of more than one 
group. When such a result is possible with children eight or nine 
years old, the outlook for democracy is good. Each child was in six 
or seven groups during the year, and there were usually about seven 
groups running at the same time. The teacher did not find these too 
many to keep in contact with, although there was some difficulty in 
getting time for consultation during the planning of each group 
and before it was started. The teacher pointed out this fact to the 
children, and it was proposed to put the plans in writing so that the 
teacher could read them at some other period. There was the ad- 
vantage of definiteness in the writing, although children of this age 
only wrote the salient points, and verbal discussion was also necessary. 

The moral and social effect of the organization of the groups, rather 
than the artistic perfection of the plays, is of course the first concern. 
In illustration of some of the effects on individual character, one or 
two experiences may be cited. There was a boy of great imagination, 
who had no difficulty in projecting any number of ideas, but who 
found carrying them out quite another matter. In the ordinary 
classroom work under the teacher his hand was always up, whether 
his answer was very much to the point or not. No ignoring or 
snubbing made any difference. It was felt by the teachers that he 
was given to " showing off." When self -organized group work started 
he was the originator of several groups. He left some of them, and 
was put out of others without ceremony. The formula in one group 
was, "Jack, you're fired; you talk too much and do nothing." To 
this he did not even answer, but turned on his heel and went off. 
At last he could get no one to join him in anything that he proposed, 
nor was he included in any other group. After a while he cultivated 
the friendship of a rather awkward and quiet boy who had just come 
to the school. It turned out that he was impressing him with the 
merits of a grand play that he had in his mind. The steadiness of 
this boy was sufficient to enable them in combination to get others, 
and the play was finally started. 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 393 

As is easily seen, the social force in each little group ran out readily 
to the whole class, and tended to extend itself to the rest of the school 
and to the home. Although there was not always a direct recogni- 
tion on the part of each group that they were working for the whole 
class, this was usually felt. In the plays it was intended from the 
beginning that they were to be offered to the class. When the first 
play was judged by the group running it to be as good as they could 
make it, the question of presenting it to the class was brought up 
before the teacher. She said that she could not give time on the pro- 
gram beyond what she had already given for group work, and 
therefore they would need to ask the rest of the class whether they 
wanted to give up the various things they were doing in order to hear 
the play. The group went before the class and told them that the 
play would take but ten minutes, and asked them if they cared to 
hear it enough to give up their own work. This was done, and some 
time was added on to discuss the play and ask questions about it. 

Some of the pupils were in as many as fifteen different groups 
during the year. Of course these groups did not last so long as those 
referred to in the above paper. There was thus a variety of experience 
suitable for young children, and undue specialism was avoided. The 
whole class, moreover, was interested in everything done by each group. 

During the year the same kind of work was introduced into the 
fourth grade, and here the pupils, during the latter part of the year, 
took possession of the large attic in the school and formed a village, 
with houses and workshops in different parts. There was a town- 
hall where the class met together as a whole. The different houses 
were furnished with wall paper, chairs, flowers, etc. Dishes were 
modeled in clay. One boy set up a battery of his own, made to run 
a bell as a signal to the villages. Calling was conducted formally, 
calling cards were printed, and a number of different activities were 
instituted. 

C. A. Scott. Extracts from Social Education, Ginn and Company. 

Comment on the Social Aspects of Class Instruction 

The whole educative process, as far as it goes on at all, is one of the 
ways in which the group life of the school manifests itself. That is 
to say, the processes of study and of learning are not external activi- 
ties, superenforced upon the little social group formed by the school. 
Everything the school does is influenced by the fact that it is a group, 
whether any conscious account is taken of the fact or not. In this 
we do not have specifically in mind such a type of school as has made 
a definite attempt to introduce social activities — so called. We shall 



394 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

consider only the average school, and we wish to suggest that what 
goes on within it are definitely social activities ; that, whether we will 
or no, whatever is attempted and whatever is done is, in every case, 
more than the summation of many individual purposes and acts, but 
are the resultants of the interaction of minds. This could be illus- 
trated in many ways, but it will probably be more suggestive for 
present purposes to note the truth of the statement in those forms of 
activity which are usually considered the preeminent function of the 
school, viz. in the preparation and reciting of lessons. In these 
activities the teacher of course has his most characteristic function, 
at least traditionally speaking. But his actual function in this case 
is not merely that of a purveyor of certain objective facts which in one 
way and another he devises means of conveying to his pupils and then 
becomes a quiz master to determine how much the pupils have gotten 
and retained. Of course the teacher may seem to do merely this, but 
even on its lowest plane this process can never be mere mechanical 
transmission and testing of knowledge. The teacher can never even 
though crude he may be, eliminate himself — he will always be a 
■person in the presence of his pupils and whatever he does, whether it 
be Uttle or much, will always be saturated with the fact that he is a 
person and not a phonograph. 

We say he cannot eliminate himself, and it is not desirable that he 
should, if he could, for, as we have seen, practically all our human 
problems have originated, in one way or another, through human 
association, and mental activity is stimulated and sustained by social 
pressure. Hence it is not even desirable that the teacher should step 
into the background when he has once brought the pupil and the facts 
to be learned together, hoping thus to develop initiative and indepen- 
dence in the pupil. It is not thus that these qualities of mind are de- 
veloped, nor are they hindered in their development by the presence 
of others with the learner. It is only under these latter conditions 
that they can really appear in any normal way — and if the teacher 
finds that his presence tends to make the pupils dependent and lacking 
in energy, it can only be said that he has somehow missed the true 
way in which to associate with them. The point holds for all teach- 
ing. It is always a process between persons, and the whole gamut of 
influences impUed in personality is inevitably brought to bear in every 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 395 

process of teaching. It is not a question of whether the teacher should 
be a person or not, but as to how he shall make his personality operative. 

Before following up this phase further, we should note another as- 
pect of the situation, viz. the presence of other pupils. Whatever 
the teacher does is always done within the group formed by the teacher 
and the class and has its group effects — so with each act of the pupils. 
We thus see that the conception of teaching and of the recitation as a 
relatively mechanical process or one having no social background is 
altogether inadequate and misleading. Under all circumstances the 
work of teacher and pupils, in or out of the recitation, whether good 
or bad, is a social affair. 

What are the consequences of this, or how should the process of 
teaching and of learning be stated, if they are to be taken socially 
rather than individually ? As we have said, the teacher is a personal- 
ity, "a psychical and moral object in the pupils' environment." 
As we have already shown, knowledge cannot be transferred bodily 
from one mind to another — it must be built up by each one for him- 
self. This very conception plays directly into our social theory, for 
once the mechanical transmission of knowledge is seen to be impos- 
sible the teacher as a social factor appears, i.e. the way in which the 
teacher exerts his influence is of necessity along social Unes. The 
situation between teacher and pupils is exactly that which we have 
sketched as characteristic of the relations of people in life outside the 
school ; the influences are of the same sort and the results are the same ; 
except that here the process may be controlled and hence conducted 
with more economy. Outside of the school, as we have seen, problems 
arise in many ways through social intercourse. Intellectual activity 
is so stimulated, and different individuals contribute to the solution 
of problems. It is essentially a complicated give-and-take process. 
It is the same in the school as far as there is any activity of an edu- 
cative sort and not mere stagnation. 

We have seen that, in general, the social group tends to be the me- 
dium through which problems arise, or at least when a problem has 
arisen, interest in it is maintained through social intercourse, and that 
the final working out of the problem is apt to be due to the contribu- 
tions of many different individuals. It is usually impossible for one 
person to see all sides of a question, and hence only by cooperation 



396 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

either simultaneous or successive can a really successful solution be 
brought to pass. As we have also pointed out, the individual's interest 
is apt to fluctuate, but if his interest is shared by others, it is more apt to 
survive the fluctuations and even to be sustained and intensified. No 
one doubts that a problem felt by a real social group can command more 
intense effort of different individuals than if it is felt by one person only. 

Now, in just the same way, in the class or even in the school, not 
merely will questions appear which are directly related to the mere 
fact that a number of people are thus brought into rather close rela- 
tionship, but farther than this, the interaction of minds, teacher's 
and pupil's, will be productive of questions which would not have 
come to them separately. That is to say, in the subject matter 
studied, natural questions will appear through the very fact that many 
different minds are at work upon it. 

We have made the point in an earlier section that much of real 
growth comes through the organization and application of one's 
powers in the solution of problems which are for the individual gen- 
uine, and hence full of appeal. It has possibly seemed to the reader 
that the proposal that all education should proceed through problems 
imposed conditions which, practically, are almost impossible to meet, 
however desirable they may be otherwise. And the difl&culty is a 
genuine one if the pupil is considered in isolation. When, however, 
he becomes a part of a social group, as he almost inevitably does, if 
he has a teacher and is in a class, a possible solution of the difficulty 
appears, for it is in such conditions, as our previous discussion has 
shown, that problems may be expected to arise quite normally and 
spontaneously. If the activity is really of the group sort, the problems 
will be quite genuine, and the effort of each pupil will be stimulated and 
sustained. It has been stated, also, that no facts can in any proper 
sense be transferred bodily from one mind to another ; that what is 
really done is to stimulate a constructive activity which results in the 
building up within the learner of ideas which may be analogous to 
those of the instructor, but not the same. In the situation of informal 
conversation and discussion and in the true recitation, we have the 
nearest approach to what might appear a mere transfer of fact from 
teacher to pupil. But this is possible because the mental action of 
both is moving along the same line, each contributing to the move- 



SOCIAL ATMOSPHERE AND THE LEARNING PROCESS 397 

ment; and the solution or other ideas, which each finally share, are 
really resultants of cooperation in the solution of the question in hand; 
the process has been one of genuine " give-and-take." We share most 
nearly the mental contents of others when we are working with them 
toward a common end. Under such conditions, we wish to em- 
phasize the interchange of thought as not only normal, but truly edu- 
cative — i.e. it is interchange and not mere transfer. What the teacher 
gives the pupil, the pupil feels the need of, and really appropriates, 
and, on the other hand, the reaction of the pupil upon the problem 
will be suggestive in many ways even to the teacher. 

We may assert, then, that the true effectiveness of the recitation 
and of teaching generally lies in the fact that it is some sort of "give- 
and-take " process between teacher and pupils and between the pupils 
themselves. We say some sort because it always occurs in varying 
degrees as far as there is any teaching and learning at all. 

We thus see that we have here conditions of utmost significance for 
effective learning, or, more generally, for genuine growth. The point 
in mentioning and discussing them in detail is that we may have a 
better conception of the conditions of the process, and hence be better 
able to get the full value afforded by the social situation. 

TOPICS FOR STUDY 

1. To what extent does Scott's self-organized group work succeed 
in making the things to be learned material of personal intercourse 
between pupils and instructors and between the children themselves ? 

2. How can social interests and social motives be infused into 
elementary arithmetic and elementary science? 

3. Discuss the view held by some educators that the personality 
of the teacher should disappear as much as possible in instruction. 

4. Is there, on the other hand, danger of the teacher's being too 
much in evidence? Why? 

5. To what extent might it be said that present-day class work is 
too largely dominated by the teacher? Give evidences of. 

6. Ways in which instinctive social relations of children in school 
hours are apt to be repressed. 

7. In what way does the teacher's relation to pupils present ab- 
normal or unnatural social aspects? See Mead. 

8. Contrast the social atmosphere in a well-regulated home and 
that in the school with reference to their relations to learning. 



398 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

g. Extent to which problems are of social origin. 

10. Justify the statement that real instruction involves an inter- 
change of experience, an interaction of personalities, in which the child 
brings something which he actively contrasts and compares with that 
furnished by teacher or book. 

11. The conversational ideal in the school. 

12. What various conclusions may be drawn from Bumham with 
reference to school instruction? 

13. What do you conclude as to the relative values of home and 
school study? 

14. Of individual vs. group study. 

REFERENCES 

BuRNHAM, W. H. "The hygiene of home study," Fed, S., 12: 213- 
230. 1905. See end of this article for extensive bibliography. 

Chambers, W. G. "The conversational method, its dangers and 
principles," Ed., 31 : 169. 

Clark, L. "A good way to teach history," S. Rev., 17: 255. 1909. 

Dewey, J. The School and Society, 47-70. Chicago, 1900. 

Jastrow, J. Fact and Fable in Psychology, p. 301. An interesting 
account of how the social atmosphere facilitated a difficult piece 
of learning. 

Johnson, N. C. "Habits of work and methods of study of high 
school pupils in some cities in Indiana," 5. Rev,, 7 : 257-277. 1899. 

Keith, J. A. "Socializing the materials and methods of education," 
£;. 5. r., 8:174. 

O'Shea, M. V. ^'Social Development and Education, p. 295. Boston, 
1909. Children's self-discipline in the group. 

Scott, C. A. Social Education. See especially his accounts of the 
self-organized groups. Extracts reprinted herewith. 

Strayer, G. D. a Brief Course in the Teaching Process, Chapter XII, 
"Social phases of the recitation." New York, 191 1. 

Tarde, Gabriel. "The interpsychology and interplay of human 
minds," International Quarterly, 7 : 59-84. 

Triplett, Norman. "The dynamogenic factors in pace-making 
and competitions," Am. Jour. Psy., 9 : 507-533. 1898. 

Waters, Robert. Culture hy Conversation. New York, 1908. Edu- 
cational and intellectual influence of conversation. Has many 
stimulating suggestions. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE CORPORATE LIFE OF THE SCHOOL IN RELATION TO MORAL 

TRAINING 

Social Aspects of Moral Training 

Every institution has its moral atmosphere and tone. Strong 
personalities establish the standards and cut the patterns which per- 
sist year after year by imitation and repetition. The children come 
and go, but the institution with its traditions, its moral standards, its 
rules and regulations, chiseled as it were in adamant, remains. Its 
molds and dies give shape to all who pass through. Moral training 
with children is more a matter of atmosphere and standard, of example 
and imitation, than of formal instruction. 

The various forms of education and training discussed in previous 
chapters of this book are shot through with moral relations. These, 
however, may not appear in the consciousness of the child. It is 
important that they should appear and that they should exercise a 
controlling influence ; for morality is a quality of character, and not 
merely a mental acquisition. One may be trained intellectually, 
industrially or economically without being moral. Character, how- 
ever, is not made up of separate compartments. Each child is a unit, 
although a very complex one. If the character is morally sound, its 
expression in every direction — social, intellectual, industrial, eco- 
nomic, etc. — will be moral. 

An education which does not rest on a moral foundation is worse 
than ignorance. The goal of the entire educative process is moral 
character. Conceding the truth of this proposition, as almost all 
parents and teachers do, it is remarkable that instruction in morals 
receives so little attention from them. The National Education As- 
sociation is the most representative body of educators in the country. 
In running through the annual reports of the past fifty years of its 
history, one finds a surprising dearth of matter on the subject of teach- 
ing morals. Each branch of the curriculum in its manifold aspects of 
content and method has been treated again and again, and great 
progress in the making of a course of study better adapted to the 
needs of the children, and of the times has undoubtedly resulted from 

399 



400 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

these discussions. But instruction in morals has never received ex- 
tended or intensive treatment at the hands of this great association, 
and from the present status of moral instruction in our public schools as 
compared with any former period, it is not easy to see that any prog- 
ress whatever in this field has been made. 

In his paper before the meeting of the National Council of Education 
at Los Angeles, in 1907, Mr. Cliflford W. Barnes, Chairman of the 
Executive Committee of the International Committee on Moral 
Training, said: " Generally speaking, systematic moral instruction may 
be said to have no place in our American school system, for it has only 
been tried to a very limited extent in a few small places." 

It is not difficult to see why our pubhc schools have made such in- 
different progress in the teaching of morality during the past fifty 
years. The deterioration of the home as a center of moral influence 
during the same period is also easily accounted for. Our public school 
system was established as an adjunct to the home and the church at a 
time when both of these institutions stood for much more in the hfe 
of the child than they do to-day. It was established at a time when the 
child was much less a ward of the state than he is to-day ; when life 
was rural, and homes were houses and lands, with firesides and gardens, 
not tenement boxes ; when the course of study was rich in the Htera- 
ture of moral and religious truth; when religion was potent in the 
home, parental authority was unquestioned, and the church and the 
minister functioned largely in every community. 

These conditions have all changed. The delinquent child of to-day 
is the product of city and town life. Out of one hundred and thirty 
thousand children in our reformatories, ninety-eight per cent come 
from cities, towns and villages. In Baltimore, crime is said to be 
fifty per cent greater in the slum district than in the city at large; 
in Chicago over two hundred per cent greater. 

With the growth of factory industries the home as an industrial 
center has steadily declined. With the eUmination from home life 
of the old-fashioned chores and daily responsibilities for home-making 
service and industries has come the breaking down of family discipline 
and parental control. Occupation and behavior must go hand in hand. 
Children cannot behave if they have nothing to do. 

Along with the weakening of home influence has come an immigra- 
tion of a million or more foreigners annually, — parents too ignorant 
to learn our language, with children quick to grasp the privileges of 
American liberty, but without the sense of self-control or civic respon- 
sibility which safeguard it. The result of all these disintegrating fac- 
tors upon child life is not only an increase of juvenile depravity, but a 
ratio of precocious crime and delinquency not loiown a half century 
ago. 



MORAL TRAINING 401 

While only a passive agent in the moral deterioration of the home 
resulting from these social, economic and industrial changes, the state 
has been an active agent in the elimination of religious instruction 
from the public school.'* Moral instruction in the earlier period of 
education in this country was inseparably bound up with religious 
instruction. But through the gradual drawing away of the public 
schools from church influence, the function of the teacher as a monitor 
in religious matters has been greatly reduced, the literature of religious 
truth, as such, excluded from the classroom, and the whole situation 
secularized to such an extent as to effect almost a complete elimination 
of religious instruction from public education. This condition has 
forced a schism between religious and moral instruction, and left the 
latter swinging in the air. Whether the state could have done other- 
wise and yet safeguarded in the public schools our American ideals of 
freedom of conscience and religious liberty, is a question. Our only 
purpose here is merely to call attention to the fact. Whatever may be 
true of the ability of the mature mind to form moral conceptions and 
act upon moral grounds independent of religious feeling or of the con- 
sciousness of a Supreme Being, it is certainly true that such ethical 
abstractions do not appeal to the child mind. 

At each step in the elimination of religious instruction from public 
schools, society has assumed increased risk. Public elementary edu- 
cation is the extension downward of the nation's authority by moral 
suasion. It is the peaceful arm of the police system before it has be- 
come necessary to display the blue coat, brass buttons and locust wand. 
The only rational and adequate means within the power of a democracy 
to conserve and perpetuate herself, her laws and her institutions, is 
through public education. We are expending immense sums of money 
trying to correct grievous ills by legislation. This is attempting to 
effect social uphft by throwing our weight on the short arm of the 
lever. It is a thousand times better to form than to reform. The 
children of to-day make the state of to-morrow. Nine tenths of these 
children receive their education in the public elementary schools. 
Character by culture through education, instead of by laws and penal- 
ties, should be the aim of society. An education which is not moral is 
unsafe both for the individual and for the state. 

Not only is the public school shorn of much of its power for moral 
instruction by excluding from it all religious instruction, but it is also 
further handicapped as a moral influence by the fact that ordinary 
academic instruction does not offer a large field for moral action. The 
end of moral training is freedom. Freedom is liberty of choice coupled 
with sufficient moral insight and self-control to choose the right ; for 
choosing what is wrong results in a limitation of freedom. One is 
free who does as he pleases, but pleases to do right. Moral training is, 



402 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

therefore, not merely informing the intellect by means of moral stand- 
ards and ideals, but it is forming the will to choose aright. Character 
has been defined as a perfectly formed will, but it must be understood 
that the principal agent in forming the will is the will itself. The will, 
building character by its own conscious acts, is the supreme aim of 
moral training. 

The child that is trained up "in the way he should go will not depart 
from it," because his will has become morally formed, and he does not 
choose to. How to provide the child with a moral experience rather 
than simply moral ideas, is the problem we have to work out in moral 
training. We all distrust direct moral instruction, and yet in our public 
schools are scarcely able to furnish an environment that contains any- 
thing worth while in the way of moral experience. The point of con- 
tact between teacher and pupil is intellectual and academic rather than 
moral and practical. 

School hfe as the child finds it is forced and artificial. It is not real 
life, and the child knows it. The material with which the school deals 
is remote from the child's natural interests. He fails to see its con- 
nection with practical everyday living. He, therefore, does not take it 
as seriously and genuinely as he does his life outside the school. If to 
him the environment is artificial, the content of his studies unrelated 
to the life about him, the moral standards required of him in the 
schoolroom will likewise be merely academic. This rather empty and 
negative condition of the public school, with respect to moral training, 
would be greatly relieved through an enrichment of the school curricu- 
lum and a vitalizing of its activities by an infusion of the warm cur- 
rent of the child's everyday interests and experiences outside the 
school. Unless we are able to do this, we must be content ourselves 
with merely skimming the ground of moral training in public school 
education. 

That which reaches the child through his experience is tenfold more a 
part of him than that which comes to him through mere ideas or sen- 
sory stimulus. One moral experience is worth a score of formal les- 
sons in morality. One of the boys in our garden class stole radishes 
from another boy's garden and was caught in the act by two or three 
of his companions. All of the gardeners were at once assembled; 
the boy and his case were set before them. After some informal dis- 
cussion a motion was made by one of the children that the boy forfeit 
his garden. It was one of the best in the plot, and he had spent much 
time on it, but by his deed he had violated property rights and thus 
forfeited his right of its ownership. The motion was unanimously 
carried. When the assembly was asked if there was any further busi- 
ness concerning the matter, it was moved by one of the children that 
this boy be required "to weed all of the other gardens." This motion 



MORAL TRAINING 403 

was not entertained by the chair, but would no doubt have carried if a 
vote had been taken on it : first, because recent rains had greatly in- 
creased the growth of weeds in the gardens ; second, because of natural 
laziness in relation to such work as weeding gardens ; and third, because 
the thief was an unpopular boy. 

Soon after the walls and ceilings of one of the boys' cottages in our 
Orphanage had been decorated, a boy made with a nail an ugly scratch 
about ten feet long through the paint on the wall of one of the dormi- 
tories. This is the boy referred to in the chapter on Punishment, who 
was brought to the office by other boys of the cottage with the request 
that he be "everlastingly licked." But they were shown that there 
was no connection between the culprit's offense and a "licking." 
They were then given some instruction as to principles of punishment 
with special reference to the fact that punishment should bear a natural 
relation to the offense, and that it should, when possible, take the form 
of an indeterminate sentence. The matter was referred back to the 
boys for further deliberation. The decision reached and presented the 
following day was that the boy should sleep in the attic, going to bed 
in the dark, until such time as it was thought safe for him to return to 
the dormitory. He was kept sleeping in the attic for about six weeks. 

Several interesting inferences may be drawn from such instances 
as these. First, that children are capable of rational action upon 
moral questions. Second, that it is unsafe to give absolute authority 
into their hands, as has been attempted in some of our school govern- 
ment schemes ; for children are emotional and may be mercilessly cruel 
in passing judgment and executing moral or governmental functions. 
Third, that participation in government under proper restriction is an 
essential factor in the training of the future citizens of a democracy, 
and that helping to discipline and govern others promotes self-gov- 
ernment. Not one case of stealing from gardens has been reported, or 
to our knowledge has occurred since this case, which happened three 
years ago. The damage to the wall was repaired, and no similar case 
of vandalism in the cottage has occurred for about the same period. 

Each new boy received into the cottage comes up against a moral 
leverage with respect to certain home-making refinements, group ideals 
and industrial standards, which he cannot resist. He is seized and 
shaped to the molds by forces which he cannot withstand. The same 
may be true with respect to moral standards in any school, if the teacher 
works wisely and diligently to establish them. 

Children, as far as they are able to understand, should be conscious 
of the process through which they are passing. Nothing will secure 
their cooperation more surely than to understand your purposes con- 
cerning them, the habits which you want them to form, and the prin- 
ciples which you want regnant in their lives. I have found it a good 



404 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

plan to place before them for solution problems in child training con- 
cerning themselves and other children. Attempts to solve such prob- 
lems lead the child to introspection and self-inquiry. You fight the 
battle alone in training a child if you do not have his conscious coopera- 
tion in the work. He is your strongest ally against the foes that are 
within or the temptations without. A thorough system of discrimina- 
tion with respect to individual merit or demerit discipline, scholar- 
ship, service rendered, etc., is an important factor in moral training. 
Nothing is more wholesome and helpful to the child than to know he 
stands on his own feet, that he is not merely one of a crowd. 

In this Orphanage we endeavor to reward every best effort or ex- 
cellency in the work and conduct of each child, and to offer numerous 
opportunities for individual initiative along many lines. This is 
especially needed in institutional life, where the besetting sin is pretty 
sure to be dead levelism. Make the boys and girls conscious of this 
fact, and open ways for them to escape from such a condition, and they 
will break through the crust of solidarity which may have settled over 
them like a pall. 

Moral training requires that children should be put upon their honor 
and trusted. Responsibility Hes at the very foundation of morality. 
Children are quick to sense the moral atmosphere in which they are 
placed. If it is one of distrust, they immediately respond with its 
natural accompaniment, deception. The less you trust children, the 
less worthy of trust do they grow. It is better to trust and be deceived 
than not to trust at all. Expect much in this regard and you will get 
much. Distrust and lack of confidence beget irresponsibility and de- 
linquency. The sense of moral guilt is much keener when the child 
betrays or abuses a trust than it is if he does wrong when expected to 
do so if he gets a chance. Wrongdoing should be a surprise and not a 
matter of course. 

No more surveillance and coercion in moral action should be exer- 
cised than is absolutely necessary. The coercion may not be that of a 
personal force, but rather that of a system. There should be a pro- 
gression from younger to older in the matter of responsibility. The 
playgrounds of our Orphanage are open and unfenced. Our children 
are not under surveillance while at play any more than are the children 
of any well-regulated family. A child can run away if he wants to. 
No one is watching him to see that he does not run away, any more than 
you would have some one watch your own children in a country home. 
The boys wander over most of the place (comprising over forty acres) 
in their play, or after cherries, chestnuts or wild flowers. Every 
pleasant Sunday afternoon the children take walks into the country. 
They go in groups of from three to twenty, the girls always accompa- 
nied by some older person, the boys usually without escort other than 



MORAL TRAINING 405 

one or two of their own number. Children fourteen years of age or 
older frequently make visits of several days or weeks to relatives, for 
we believe in strengthening kinship ties where they are safe and proper. 
Our children go to New York, Yonkers and Hastings on errands fre- 
quently and alone. About fifty weeks of visiting with relatives and 
friends were among the privileges which the boys and girls of the 
Orphanage enjoyed during the past year. 

Ample opportunity must be provided for the child to exercise free- 
dom of choice whenever consistent with his highest good. Nothing 
makes for individual responsibility like the exercise of free choice. 
Since the child will soon be sent forth into the world, where he will do all 
of his own choosing, it is important that he should do some of it now, 
while under training, as a preparation for that greater responsibility. 
The child of fourteen should have wider range of free choice than the 
child of twelve. 

The superintendent of a New York institution some time ago re- 
ceived a letter from the people to whom an orphan child fifteen years 
of age was apprenticed, stating that the child would never take a bath 
unless made to do so. The regular custom in the institution was two 
baths a week for all the children. As this child had been in the insti- 
tution about ten years, it had repeated the practice of bathing about a 
thousand times, and yet the habit of taking a bath had not been formed. 
In a subjective or psychological sense, however, this child had really 
never taken a bath. If we analyze the complex process of taking a 
bath into its elements, we note the following : feeling the need of a 
bath, desire to satisfy the need, choosing the time, manner and condi- 
tions for taking a bath, and finally the application of soap and water. 
With but one of these steps had the child had anything whatever to do 
during the entire ten years of her life in the institution. Hence the 
child had not acquired the habit of bathing. 

The forming of a habit above the level of mere instinct requires 
something more than repetition. If feeling, desire and choice are 
necessary steps in the act which is to become habitual, they must func- 
tion in the genetic process of establishing the habit. Without pur- 
poseful effort no habit will be formed even by endless repetition. This 
is why institutionalism is so empty and barren of intelligent response 
in character and efficiency on the part of those who have been subjected 
to its stupefying regime. 

Public sentiment may become as potent a factor for moral uplift 
among children as among adults. Almost unKmited possibilities for 
good he in this comparatively neglected field in school disciphne. 
Two of my children attended a high school in Massachusetts where 
there was almost no cheating or cribbing, and what little there was, 
was frowned upon by the students ; the tone of the school was against 



4o6 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

it. Later on, they attended school in another state where there was no 
sentiment against cribbing, and the practice was very prevalent. 

I am confident if the garden thief and the cottage vandal had been 
dealt with as individuals only other similar cases would have followed, 
no matter what the punishment might have been. The inflicting of 
punishment upon a child for an offense against his fellows, by the one 
in authority, is by no means so effective as punishment administered 
by the social group injured or caused to suffer by the offense. In the 
latter case the moral standards of the community are defined and estab- 
lished by the social whole. Each individual shares in the influence 
and uplift of every moral judgment. The culprit also accepts his 
punishment with better grace, feels the force of the moral standards of 
the community more strongly, and is much less liable to experience feel- 
ings of personal resentment than he is when the punishment is decreed 
and administered by an individual. 

Every enrichment of the child's Ufe, every new interest in play, in- 
dustry or study, every increase of liberty or possession, brings new 
temptations. But interests and temptations, industry and freedom, 
constitute life. They furnish the concrete situations and conditions 
in which moral relations arise. 

G and K , two boys of the Orphanage, have an unusually 

elaborate tree hut built some fifteen feet above the ground in a clump of 
chestnut trees. They wanted a waterproof roof on it. Workmen on 
the place were using tar paper for damp proofing the walls of a new 
cottage in process of construction. The boys stole — or you may say, 
"carried off" — two half rolls of tar paper for use in their playhouse 
enterprise. At the same time they greatly needed a saw, which they 
also found in the contractor's outfit and appropriated. The circum- 
stance offered an opportunity for moral instruction and moral training 
of which we have many in the Orphanage, and always will have as long 
as the children have possessions and carry on constructive play. To 
make things, own things and do things is life ; and life — real life — 
is moral. In the assembly of boys it was voted that these boys should 
return the stolen property, apologize to the contractor, and promise not 
to take anything more. They also understood that any repetition 
of the offense would mean a forfeit of their ownership of the house. 

A , a fourteen-year-old boy, has a dovecote which he built last 

year. He is raising pigeons. He needed food for them and stole a 
generous supply from the poultry feed room of the Orphanage. The 
desire to use rather than to possess was the chief motive in the theft. 
In the former case it was a suggestion to those in authority that chil- 
dren should be provided with material for their playhouse enterprises, 
or at least be given honest means of providing it for themselves. In 
the latter case, opportunity to buy, or to earn by labor, food for pets 



MORAL TRAINING 407 

was suggested and thereafter offered. It is a wise parent or teacher 
whose foresight is equal to these natural demands of the child's inter- 
est, and who anticipates them far enough in advance to prevent dis- 
honest outbreaks. 

Direct as well as indirect instruction in morals should be given to / 
children. The fear of making a moral lesson or application too direct ! 
or too obvious has become a fetish with many parents and teachers, 
and the result often is that no moral instruction whatever is given. 
The old-fashioned appeal, "Is it right?" and "Do right," are seldom 
heard nowadays ; and yet as long as the human mind has a conscience 
it is well to press these claims upon it, abstract as they are, for the re- 
sponse will usually be morally uplifting. In attempting to adjust 
methods of discipline and instruction to the caprice of the child, many 
parents and teachers have themselves become opportunists, rel)dng 
upon devices and expedients rather than upon principles. I once knew 
an indulgent mother who was unable to get her young son to bed with- 
out resorting to devices, one of which was for a member of the family 
to impersonate a hotel proprietor, receive the boy as a guest and show 
him his room. 

The three following cases, in which direct instruction given in season 
would no doubt have served as prevention, are typical of other similar 
ones which have come within my experience. An undersized fourteen- 
year-old boy, when asked why he was so small for his age, told me he 
could not account for his lack of physical development and vigor unless 
it was due to smoking cigarettes, from about seven years of age until 
brought to the Orphanage School. He said he did not know the habit 
would injure him. He is a good boy, trustworthy and well disposed, 
and would no doubt never have formed the habit had he been properly 
instructed. 

M , now fourteen years of age, brought with her when she en- 
tered the school four years ago, a vulgar Bowery song which she imme- 
diately proceeded to teach to the other little girls. The song was 
brought to the office by an older girl. The child showed little knowl- 
edge of the meaning of the song when questioned concerning it, and 
is now, four years later, one of the most refined girls in the school. 

K , at fifteen years of age, told me what a hard struggle he had 

had to break up an injurious personal habit after my first conference 
with the boys on the subject some two years before ; also, that he had 
not known the practice was wrong or would work injury to him, until 
so instructed. 

Just as school nurses and settlement workers find, in thousands of 
homes, deplorable ignorance concerning dietary, sanitation, the care 
of the children and the sick, resulting in ill health and a high mortality 
rate, so may teachers, if they inquire, find distressing ignorance among 



4o8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

school children concerning personal habits, purity, temperance, right- 
eous living, etc., resulting every year in a record of juvenile delinquency, 
vice and crime. In such cases there is need of direct instruction, and, 
if properly given, it will go a long way toward enlightenment and pre- 
vention. 

Rudolph R. Reeder, How Two Hundred Children Live and Learn, Chapter VII. 

The Social Basis of Moral Education 

The problem of moral training is primarily a phase of the larger 
problem of social education. This fact is admirably illustrated in the 
preceding extract from Dr. Reeder's book. Although it refers specifi- 
cally to conditions in an institution for dependent children, the social 
life is apparently so normal and well-balanced that it is quite t3rpical 
of what is possible in other sorts of schools. Dr. Reeder's discussion 
of the social conditions of sound moral development is also particularly 
clear and forceful and merits the most serious study, especially with 
reference to ways in which these principles may be worked out in the 
public schools. 

The recognition of the social basis of moral education has come in 
part from a fuller appreciation of the nature of morality. This is seen 
to-day to be essentially a social phenomenon. Apart from partici- 
pation in social life, the principles and precepts of ethics have no 
significance. It is through social intercourse, through intimate co- 
operative and competitive activity, that rules of conduct have slowly 
evolved. Elementary moral laws are clearly present in the social 
life of all savage peoples. There are laws of the chase, of war, of the 
proper division of food, laws which prescribe the form of the camp and 
the conduct of the youths, especially toward their elders. All these 
regulations are the direct consequences of human associations. It 
would be inconceivable that they should ever be thought of, much 
less practiced, if these savages were not social creatures. Out of these 
primitive face-to-face social relations develop higher moral laws; from 
them come our conception of the good and the bad, of the vices and 
the virtues of the moral idea of standards of conduct. 

The savage boy receives his moral training by participating in the 
actual social life about him. So have the youth of all stages of culture, 
even to our own. All ideas regarding right and wrong that possess 



MORAL TRAINING 



409 



any vitality, all conceptions of noble virtue and of compelling ideals, 
have come through the social medium and have been defined and 
reenforced by the examples of others, whether mother, playmate, 
friend or great historical character. 

This sort of moral training has been going on in all ages, and is as 
effective to-day as it ever was. It is noteworthy, however, that when 
the instituted agencies of education have undertaken the moral train- 
ing of the children, these primary conditions of moral growth have 
often been ignored. Some abstract and purely formed method has 
usually been adopted and practiced. Thus, in European schools the 
attempt is made to hand over ready-made moral principles to boys 
and girls. Certain things are taught as good, other things as bad; 
simple ethical principles are taught in the same formal way that the 
principles of arithmetic or the rules of grammar are studied out of 
books and memorized as so many external facts. The same methods 
have been tried and are being tried in this country to some extent, al- 
though, in most schools on the whole, little attention, comparatively, 
is given to the matter of moral training. 

Formal instruction in morals is good as far as it goes, but it needs 
supplementing by opportunities for practice. Its inherent defect is 
that it is apt to give only an intellectual recognition of the principles 
of conduct. Mere knowledge of what is right unfortunately does not 
always make a person do the right. The formal instruction, however, 
is not to be entirely condemned or rejected. Indeed, it has a place 
if it is accompanied by proper reenforcement through healthful social 
relations. The savage tribes usually tell their children explicitly 
what they shall and shall not do, — but their moral training does not 
stop with this. It is continued and illustrated and emphasized in 
every detail of familiar daily social intercourse and social duties. 

Moral training is, as suggested, not dependent upon whether we are 
thinking about it or not. It does not stop when we cease our formal 
instruction. This, however, does not render the problem of moral 
education less important. It suggests rather new lines of attack. 
Instead of confining our attention to the purely formal aspects, neces- 
sary as they are, it indicates other and even more important avenues 
of moral training which can be rendered vastly more effective by sys- 
tematically taking them into account. Instead of ignoring the social 



4IO SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

aspect, the effort to-day is to understand it better and utilize it as far 
as may be possible, without robbing it of its effectiveness. The in- 
formal relations of intimate social interaction are admitted to have 
a character-forming value. But the character thus formed is not 
always of desirable sorts. The street gang furnishes a social at- 
mosphere which has profound character-forming capacity, but unfor- 
tunately character of the worst sort. In the ordinary country vil- 
lage, there are powerful influences at work to shape the life and ideals 
of boys and girls. But partly because nobody pays any attention to 
them, these influences are apt to be vicious rather than uplifting. 

The recognition of the possibility of controlling and shaping social 
life so that it may contribute to the moral uplift of the community is 
one of the aspects of the modern impulse for conservation. It is well 
known that in modern industry everything is utilized; the waste 
products are becoming less and less every year. Things once thrown 
aside as valueless are now turned to account and found to be the most 
profitable aspects of the business. The by-products of the packing 
houses are said to be worth more to-day than the meat products. 

In education, likewise, we are realizing that there are many opportu- 
nities for effecting educational results which in times past have been 
entirely ignored. We hardly dare predict the results when we shall 
set about to turn to some definite account the hitherto neglected op- 
portunities for moral education. 

These opportunities are particularly those which are afforded by 
the social life of the school. This social life which in uncontrolled 
ways is making moral character of a somewhat uncertain, nonde- 
script type may be vastly more effective in the production of moral 
character of a better sort, if the teacher can realize in general how much 
depends upon the social relations, and specifically how to organize 
the details of these relations so as to accomplish a high, rather than a 
low, order of character development. 

The first point to recognize is that the school is a " primary " social 
group. Like all " primary groups " — e.g. the family or neighbor- 
hood — it is a veritable nursery of human nature. It affords peculiar 
opportunity for intimate, face-to-face cooperation and community of 
interest which are of supreme value in the formation of sound moral 
ideals. All that was said in a previous chapter about primary groups 



MORAL TRAINING 411 

and primary ideals has specific application here. In the group life 
of the school is the soil from which may spring up quite naturally those 
fundamental quahties of human nature which are the raw material 
of all character, — namely, loyalty, truthfulness, cooperation, en- 
durance, justice, kindness. 

These qualities do not have to be implanted in the children ; they 
are there to start with, waiting only for a little encouragement Lo call 
them forth. The encouragement needed is little more than face-to- 
face cooperative and competitive work and play. Without any over- 
sight, by wise teachers these . qualities burst forth, but are often nar- 
rowed in scope and perverted in function, as is seen in the street gang 
and in the unsupervised playground. Nor is supervision of the 
primary groups of school and playground inconsistent with the at- 
tainment of their moral possibilities. As far as the playground is 
concerned, it is recognized by all who have given attention to it that 
supervision is not only necessary, but is welcomed by the children as 
the condition under which all can enjoy its opportunities most fully. 
Neither is it inconsistent with the best moral possibilities of the school 
that its social life should be consciously supervised and molded with 
a view of obtaining the full Hmit of the social forces which spring up 
there, whether one will or no.^ 

The first consideration and the one of most general importance is 
that the social life of the school shall be natural and as nearly as pos- 
sible a reproduction of the healthiest social life of the community and 
of the country. If the boy or girl is to participate intelligently in the 
activities of the larger society, he must be trained along these lines in 
the school. If he is to be a member of a democratic and progressive 
society, he should attend a school dominated by the principles which 
lie at the basis of such a society. " He must be educated for leader- 
ship as well as for obedience. He must have power of self-direction 
and power of directing others, power of administration, ability to as- 
sume positions of responsibility." These are qualities quite essential 
to success in modern society, and they are prime essentials to effective 
moral character. If the school is a vital social institution, these quali- 
ties will be nourished and developed. If it is not, they will be corre- 
spondingly neglected. 

1 See Reeder, pp. 65-69. 



412 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

" In a certain city there is a swimming school where youth are 
taught to swim without going into the water, being repeatedly drilled 
in the various movements which are necessary for swimming. When 
one of the young men so trained was asked what he did when he got 
into the water, he laconically replied, ' Sunk.' The story happens to 
be true ; if it were not, it would seem to be a fable, made expressly 
for the purpose of typifying the prevailing status of the school, as 
judged from the standpoint of its ethical relationship to society. The 
school cannot be a preparation for social life excepting as it reproduces, 
within itself, the typical conditions of social life. The school at pres- 
ent is engaged largely upon the futile task of Sisyphus. It is endeavor- 
ing to form practically an intellectual habit in children for use in a 
social life which is, it would seem, carefully and purposely kept away 
from any vital contact with the child who is thus undergoing training. 
The only way to prepare for social life is to engage in social life. To 
form habits of social usefulness and serviceableness apart from any 
direct social need and motive, and apart from any existing social 
situation, is, to the letter, teaching the child to swim by going through 
motions outside of the water. The most indispensable condition is 
left out of account, and the results are correspondingly futile." ^ 

The first problem of moral education is, then, that of providing in 
the little social group of the school real copies of normal social rela- 
tionships, of developing in it " an embryonic typical community life." 
Without such provision all moral training will be in part formal and 
in part artificial and incapable of connecting with the inevitable con- 
ditions of the larger world. In the world of adult society, for example, 
the normal individual is not consciously hedged about by all sorts 
of restrictions. He is not restrained from wrongdoing by the knowl- 
edge that the eye of the law is ever watching him, ever ready to re- 
press him. In fact, he thinks very little about the limitations imposed 
upon him. He is busy with his vocation, which is probably a decent 
one and one which is an avenue for some definite service to society as 
well as a means of livelihood for himself and family. He is not con- 
stantly harassed by the fear that he may do something forbidden by 
the law. If he should constantly feel himself under surveillance by 

1 Dewey, Ethical Principles underlying Education, pp. 13, 14. Reprinted from the Third 
Yearbook of the National Herbart Society. 



MORAL TRAINING 413 

the officers of the law lest he might do something wrong, his productive 
capacity would be cut in two. As it is, he is constantly stimulated 
to do his best in his particular line through the knowledge that he has 
a work of his own and that it is work which is worth something to 
others as well as to himself. The major part of his attention is directed, 
not toward avoiding wrongdoing, but performing positive service. 
This holds true in practice with even the himiblest worker, even though 
he may not state the matter to himself in any such sophisticated 
fashion. No one can doubt that these social conditions have a great 
moral value for the individual, or that he develops in character under 
their influence. 

The school, however, seldom works along such lines. " Too often 
the teacher's concern with the moral life of pupils takes the form of 
alertness for failures to conform to school rules and routine. These 
regulations, judged from the standpoint of the development of the 
child at the time, are more or less conventional and arbitrary. They 
are rules which have been made to order that the existing modes of 
school work may go on ; but the lack of inherent necessity in these 
school modes reflects itself in a feeling, on the part of the child, that 
the moral discipline of the school is arbitrary. Any conditions that 
compel the teacher to take note of failures rather than of healthy 
growth give false standards and result in distortion and perversion. 
Attending to wrongdoing ought to be an incident rather than a prin- 
ciple. The child ought to have a positive consciousness of what he 
is about, so as to judge his acts from the standpoint of reference to the 
work which he has to do. Only in this way does he have a vital stand- 
ard, one that enables him to turn failures to account for the future." ^ 

The moral value of work in which a person can truly express himself 
is strikingly illustrated in an increasingly large number of modern 
reform schools. Of these the Junior Republic previously discussed 
is t)rpical. The majority of those entering these schools have never 
felt the restraining influence of any definite work. As Mr. George says, 
the " physical energy, vitality, superabundance of spirits, in the 
normal boy, is bound to have some outlet." If he has no definite 
work into which he can turn his energy, if he "is irresponsible, care- 
free, because he has parents, friends or some society to furnish food 

1 Dewey, Ethical Principles underlying Education. 



414 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

and comfort," he is almost sure to sow wild oats liberally. When 
such a one is made responsible for his own support, and has aroused 
in him an interest in property, he is likely to experience a moral trans- 
formation. In other words, when he is thrown into a social group 
where the normal economic conditions of adult society prevail, he 
learns for the first time what it means to work steadily and patiently, 
and in this way rapidly acquires the interests and becomes adjusted 
to the restraining influences that prevail among normal adults. 
The thoroughness with which the most vicious and lawless characters 
are made over into law-abiding citizens by being thus subjected to 
the influences of a normal social group is convincing proof that moral 
development is dependent upon a social medium which provides defi- 
nite responsibility in the shape of work and property and with it the 
opportunity for that social service which each one performs who pur- 
sues a vocation with skill and industry. 

Perhaps these measures would be too drastic for the boy or girl who 
had not strayed into actual criminality. We cannot be too mindful 
that in many quarters children are systematically robbed by modern 
industry of the joyfulness and freedom that belong to childhood. The 
evil of child labor is not merely that it is exhausting physically and 
mentally and thus prevents natural growth, but also that it is imposed 
upon its victims. They are mere drudges, not finding in their work 
any opportunity for joyful self-expression. The work that is morally 
uplifting is not of the exhausting, externally imposed type, but rather 
that which gives organized healthful outlets to the impulses of self- 
activity. " The farmer boy, in his wide range of daily tasks, from 
milking the cows and feeding the pigs in the morning to digging the 
potatoes for dinner, weeding the garden in the afternoon, and finally 
littering the stables at night, may expend ten times as much energy 
as the factory boy, and go to bed tired at night, but it is wholesome 
work, and out of it all he will get a good deal of fun and no end of 
physical tone and appetite." ^ 

If, then, children are ever to become desirable factors in human so- 
ciety, they must begin in their formative period to acquire some of 
the qualities of life which will be demanded of them. If participa- 
tion in the interests and activities of a normal social group has 

1 Reeder, p. 92. 



MORAL TRAINING 415 

such salutary effect upon the lawless child, may it not have values 
that should be secured also for the normal boy or girl? For every 
age above babyhood there is a normal requirement of work and re- 
sponsibility. To deprive the child of this privilege is to deprive him 
of the conditions of normal growth. 

This artificiality of the school atmosphere is an outcome of the tend- 
ency of the school, as an institution, to develop a life of its own which 
becomes more or less independent of the society that it serves. When 
the entire community was active in the training of its children the 
atmosphere of education was identical with that of the social group. 
It is perhaps inevitable that it would lose its vital social quality as 
the school is differentiated and gradually acquires a peculiar technique 
and traditions of its own. 

But this is an age in which the maximum of productivity is demanded 
of all investments. The same constant and careful scrutiny which 
is being applied to other lines of human activity to insure the best 
returns must be applied to the' school. Its tendency to become iso- 
lated and artificial, natural though that tendency may be, must be 
constantly checked by the determined effort of wise teachers. A more 
widespread conception of the school as a social institution and as one 
of the media of social conservation and regeneration must displace 
the narrow idea of its function as that for merely imparting a little 
formal knowledge. This intelligent appreciation of the meaning of 
the school will exert a constant influence in preserving in it a true and 
healthful relation to the social whole. There is a striking contrast 
between the well-ordered home and the school in this particular. 
The home does not lay upon the children duties and responsibilities 
that are different from the social life in which it participates. The 
children have in the home the same motives for right doing and are 
judged by standards similar to those which prevail in the wider adult 
society. " Interest in community welfare, an interest that is intel- 
lectual and practical as well as emotional, — an interest, that is to say, 
in perceiving whatever makes for social order and progress, and in 
carrying these principles into execution, — is the moral habit to which 
all the special school habits (as the special family habits) must be re- 
lated if they are to be animated by the breath of life." ^ 
* J. Dewey, Moral Principles in Education, 1910. 



41 6 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

Tn a preceding section we have seen that the specific teaching of 
the school may be rendered more effective by a recognition of the so- 
cial quality of these functions. This increased effectiveness will con- 
tribute to the moral as well as to the intellectual side. Enlightened 
methods of socialized instruction will be far more productive of genuine 
moral growth than any formal instruction in the principles of right 
doing. Moral character is more than a set of ideas, it is much more 
the whole attitude of life with its subtle complex of habits gradually 
built up through the method and spirit in which countless little things 
have been done. We thus see that every phase of school activity, in- 
cluding that of the mental teaching, has its moral possibilities. For 
instance, compare the different moral consequences of emphasizing 
" construction and giving out rather than absorption and mere learn- 
ing." The latter method is essentially individualistic and inevitably, 
though unconsciously, shapes the child's point of view and determines 
his future modes of action. " Imagine fourth-grade children all engaged 
in reading the same books, and in preparing and reciting the same les- 
sons day after day. Suppose this process constitutes by far the 
larger part of their work, and that they are continually judged from the 
standpoint of what they are able to take in in a study hour and re- 
produce in a recitation. There is no opportunity for any social divi- 
sion of labor. There is no opportunity for each child to work out some- 
thing specifically his own, which he may contribute to the common 
stock, while he in turn participates in the productions of others. All 
are set to do exactly the same work and turn out the same products. 
. . . One reason why reading aloud in school is poor is that the real 
motive for the use of language — the desire to communicate and to 
learn — is not realized. The child knows perfectly well that the 
teacher and all his fellow pupils have exactly the same facts and ideas 
before them that he has ; he is not giving them anything at all. And 
it may be questioned whether the moral lack is not as great as the 
intellectual." 

Moreover, prevailing methods of instruction not only fail to culti- 
vate the social spirit, they inculcate motives that are positively indi- 
vidualistic. The teacher seeks to hold the child to his studies, not 
through his social interest, but through his personal regard for the 
teacher, to please him, to retain his esteem, or even fear for the dis- 



MORAL TRAINING 417 

approbation of the teacher which may become morbid and paralyz- 
ing. Likewise, emulation and rivalry are appealed to, and the child 
is constantly encouraged to judge of his success not by his own in- 
dividual and unique contributions, but by comparing himself with 
his mates. In this way a demoralizing external standard is substituted 
for the intrinsic one of love for the thing itself as well as for its social 
meaning. He glories not in his own powers, but in their supposed 
superiority to some one else. ■ As Professor Dewey says, the child is 
thus " launched prematurely into the regions of individualistic com- 
petition, and this in a direction where competition is least applicable; 
namely, in intellectual and artistic matters, whose law is cooperation 
and participation." 

There is another aspect of school method or rather of characteris- 
tic school emphasis which tends to weaken rather than to build up a 
sound moral attitude; that is, the frequent reference to a remote 
future to justify present tasks. There is no sufl&cient immediate mo- 
tive for doing this or that thing. What difference does it make if one 
does not do his best just now ? Why not put off till to-morrow some 
of the duties assigned for to-day ? It can make no special difference ; 
the goal is so far away that the matter of an hour or two or a day or 
two will not appreciably affect one's final attainment. How different 
are the pupil's attitudes if he feels that what he does has present value, 
immediate and tangible consequences ! Reeder well says, " when I 
have attempted to attain certain definite results with children and 
failed, I have rarely found the chief cause to be in the children. It 
generally means that the motive or attainment has not been adequate. 
The goal was too remote, appreciation of its value too slight, or there 
was lack of personal touch and inspiration, so that whatever was 
necessary to energize the full capacity of the chUd was wanting. The 
remedy would naturally be to quicken the interest in the end sought." 
He goes on to tell how, when they moved into their new cottage homes 
some years ago, a serious problem presented itself with reference to 
preventing reckless breakage of the china with which each house was 
furnished. The children were expected to do all the work which in- 
volved handling the china, but they seemed to have no conscience what- 
ever about doing it carefully. While fining them for breakage acted 
as a slight deterrent, it did not go far enough. Then a social as over 



4i8 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

against an individual motive was devised. " We fixed a maximum 
as a standard of reasonable care. If the breakage exceeded this al- 
lowance, the excess was replaced with plain agate ware. This new fea- 
ture touched the strongest asset in the cottage system; namely, cot- 
tage pride. By carelessness on the part of those children who served 
in the pantry and dining room, a cottage might lose all its beautiful 
china. Three of them did lose a fourth of their table ware before 
they became thoroughly aroused. But the effect was salutary. By 
the end of the first six months the total amount of breakage was re- 
duced fifty per cent, in some cottages seventy-five per cent. . . . For 
the past three six-month periods the average breakage per cottage has 
been less than one piece per week. ... It is no uncommon thing for 
a child to serve six months in dining room or pantry without a break- 
age. . . ." As the author says, this experiment in motivation is typi- 
cal in character. To fine a child for his carelessness was purely an 
individual matter. No one suffered but the one who paid the fine. 
But under the scheme the carelessness " reflected upon the social and 
moral standing of the whole cottage group. Breaking china became 
no longer merely an individual mishap ; it was a social offense. The 
unfortunate child that tripped up and smashed a half dozen saucers 
stirred up the whole cottage group," who felt the disgrace of being 
thus forced to use agate ware upon their table.^ 

Here was a situation in which care had decided present value. The 
future value of habits of carefulness wovild have furnished no adequate 
motive to the children for being circumspect in the present. The 
thing was worth doing not as a preparation for adult life but because 
to omit it meant individual loss and stern social disapproval of one's 
peers then and there. As Dewey says : " Who can reckon up the 
loss of moral power that arises from the constant impression that 
nothing is worth doing in itself, but only as a preparation for something 
else — for some genuinely serious end beyond." In the case of future 
values also the motive is largely egoistic, as far as it goes, rather than 
social. Whatever be the future values of the things studied, there 
should always be for the learner at least a little present social justifi- 
cation for the task. Whenever the active impulses are appealed to, 
wherever the pupil finds for himself the joy of discovery, of making, 
iReeder, op. cit., pp. 184-187. 



MORAL TRAINING 419 

of producing something, rather than merely demonstrating his su- 
perior absorbing power, his mind is opened for reciprocity, for co- 
operation and for personal achievement that is social and hence mor- 
ally uplifting. 

One aspect of the social basis of moral training we have not as yet 
considered, — it is that which grows out of the personal touch with 
teachers or adults generally. The relation of teacher to child can never 
be purely formal; there is always the personal element and this as we 
have seen in the chapter on " personality " is always a social factor. 
Even in the most formal moral instruction, which, taken by itself, 
has little value, there is always added thereto the positive or negative 
influence of the teacher as a person in the child's social environment. 
Hence instruction in morals through telling of stories or discussing 
simple ethical principles is a social process and the interaction of child 
and teacher must be included among the social bases of moral train- 
ing. This interaction is, of course, much more widely extended than 
actual class teaching. It is as inclusive as is the life of the school itself. 

The moral values of personal touch also vary widely; in the case of 
some teachers the influence may, of course, be altogether negative ; 
from this as a lower limit it may range upward in almost limitless de- 
gree. " One of the most potent of all incentives in child life is the 
example and influence of older people whom the child respects and 
admires. Example and imitation always outrun instruction; thus this 
personal touch of older and wiser but genial and companionable people 
is the greatest need in child life everywhere. (Children may) become 
inexpressibly lonely, although constantly in a crowd of children. To 
suppose that about all children need to make them happy are play- 
things and other children to play with, is a great mistake. They 
weary of one another much sooner than of older people. In fact, if 
the older associates are interesting and companionable, their company 
is preferred to that of children. ... It is seldom that children in 
their own homes receive that sympathy and cooperation from older 
people in either work or play for which they deeply yearn." ^ 

" The best that has come to parents and teachers through heredity, 
education and experience can be passed on to their children, not by 
formal instruction, but through comradeship and intimate association 

1 Reeder, pp. 188-189. 



420 SOCIAL ASPECTS OF EDUCATION 

with them in all of the relations and interests which enlarge and en- 
rich home life. . . . Wise parents will enter into the games and pas- 
times of their children, will swim and skate and coast with them, will 
read and stroll and play games with them, will plan and build and 
sympathize with them in their struggles, in their failures, and in the 
training of their pets." ^ 

It is in this daily sympathetic, communicative contact of the child 
with healthy minded, vigorous manhood and womanhood that some 
of the truest, most effective moral training occurs. At least is it in- 
dispensable that in the general social atmosphere of the home and of 
the school this should be included as one of the most important ele- 
ments. 

TOPICS FOR STUDY AND DISCUSSION 

1. The relation between formal moral training and a social atmos- 
phere favorable to the development of good morals. 

2. Can one go without the other ? What illustrations of Reeder's 
show the need of both sides? 

3. Can you give others? Give several illustrations of your own 
of the way in which public sentiment will control an individual. 

4. Can a person become moral by mere imitation ? Which should 
be prior, the practical experience which the teacher may call the child's 
attention to as having a moral significance, or the moral precept itself 
which the child may later apply as he sees the need ? 

5 . Give practical illustrations of the evil consequences of the teacher's 
having as her predominant attitude that of watching for offenses. 

6. Why is expectation of good conduct psychologically sovmder? 

REFERENCES ON THE SOCIAL BASIS OF MORAL EDU- 
CATION 

Addams, Jane. Democracy and Social Ethics. Chapter VI, "Edu- 
cational Methods." 

Buck, Winifred. Boy^s Self-governing Clubs, New York, 1903. 
Suggestive chapters on the ethical lessons of the playground and 
of the business meeting. 

CooLEY, C. H. Social Organization, New York, 1909. Chapter IV, 
"Primary Ideals." The social basis of certain fundamental moral 
quaUties. 

^ Ibid., p. 198. 



MORAL TRAINING 421 

Dewey, J. Moral Principles in Education, Riverside Educational 
Monographs. Boston, 1910. 

FoRBUSH, W. B. The Boy Problem, 6th ed., 1907. Especially Chap- 
ter II. "Theby-lawsof boy life." 

George, Wm. The Junior Republic, New York, 1910, Gives many 
illustrations of the restraining moral power of public sentiment. 

Gilbert, Chas. C. "The morale of the school." Chapters III and IV 
of The School and its Life. 

Griggs, E. H. Moral Education. Chapter XII, "Moral influence of 
the social atmosphere." Chapter XIII, "Principles of govern- 
ment in home and school." 

HoLDEN, E. S. "How honor and justice may be taught in the public 
schools," Cosmopolitan, 29 : 667. 

Jenks, Jeremiah. "The social basis of education," Chapter II of 
Citizenship and the Schools. 

McCuNN, John. Making of Character, New York, 1900. "Family, 
school, friendship," Chapter IV, Part II. 

Moral Training in the Public Schools, five authors. See especially 
p. 107. 

Reeder, R. Hffw Two Hundred Children Live and Learn, Chapters 
VII and VIII. Illustrations of the social motive for good conduct. 
Value of adult association in moral growth. 

Scott, C. A. Social Education. Chapter XII, "The education of the 
conscience." Helpful, general suggestions. 

SissoN, E. O. The Essentials of Character. Chapter VIII, "The social 
ideal." Basic truths of human life, social intelHgence, love of 
man, courtesy. 

Welton and Blanford. Principles and Methods of Moral Training. 
Chapter VI, " The school community." 



INDEX 



Adult, education of, i8. 

Agricultural high school, community work 

of, 43 f. 
Antagoaism between pupils and teacher, 378. 
Athletics in a socially organized high school, 

279 f. 
Attention, influence of group upon, 360. 

Boy legislation, 255. 

Clubhouse for high school, 284. 

Clubs, civic, 83, 84, 90, 117; iDoys', 82, 249; 

girls', 86 ; farm, 44 ; women's, 86 ; in 

high school, 278. 
Conception, social basis of, 332. 
Continuation schools, 149 ; development of, 

in Germany, 150; time allotted to, 152; 

in Munich, 152 f. 
Contract theory of society, 231. 
Controlling power of the group upon the 

individual, 304 f., 379, 406 f. 
Conversation, educational value of, 348 f . ; 

recognition of, by ancient Greeks, 349; 

between child and adult, 351 f. 
Corn congress, 47. 

Corporate life of school, 264; value of, 265 f. 
Curriculum, social values of, 369 ff. 

Dancing parties in high school, 286. 
Delinquency due to physical defects and to 

social maladjustments, 231 ; methods of 

treating, 232 f. 
Democratic government of schools, 291. 

Education and progress, 3, 21, 220; increas- 
ing social responsibility of, 4 ; social origin 
of, 6 S. ; moral and religious, of savages, 
9, 19; development dependent upon 
natural selection, 17; imitation and famil- 
iar social intercourse the basis of, 18; 
social need for, 20 f., 24 ; tendency to be- 
come irresponsive to social need, 21, 25 f. ; 



dependence of, on past, 156; enlarging 

scope of, 221 ; and social reform, 230. 
EflBciency of high school graduate, 189 f. 
Evening lecture system of New York City, 

98; aims of, 99; types of lectures, 100; 

social value, loi, 105, 107. 

Festival, school, 269. 

Fraternity, the high school, 272; prohibi- 
tion of, 284. 

Gardens, school, 129 f, ; kinds of, 129, 133 f. ; 
social values, 130 f. ; influence of, on re- 
mainder of school work, 132; educational 
significance of, 140. 

Geography, social meaning of, 371. 

Give and take in class work, 396. 

Group as a stimulus to mental activity, 358 ; 
explanation of, 361 ; self-organized group 
work, 383 f. 

Herbartian psychology, individualistic, 364. 
Hesperia movement, 29 f. ; ideals of, 31. 
History, social meanings of, 372. 
Home and school associations, 30 f., 35; 

work of, 58 f. 
Home aud school, separation of, 54 f . ; need 

for cooperation, 55; school gardening a 

bond between, 137. 
House system, English, 277. 

Imagination, group influence upon, 362 f. 

Imitation, 327. 

Impulse and initiative factors in progress, 
225; conservation of, by school, 226 f. 

Individual and group, 325. 

Industrial training among primitive peoples, 
7. See also Vocational education. 

Initiation ceremonies, educational signifi- 
cance of, 364. 

Instincts, 327, 363. 

Interscholastic sports, 279. 



423 



424 



INDEX 



Judgment, social basis of, 334. 
Judicial procedure among boys, 257. 

Language, a social acquisition, 329 f., 345. 

Lawfulness, a social ideal, 245. 

Leadership in the school, 310 f. ; character of 
the schooUeader, 318; qualities producing 
prestige, 312; biological need of, 313; 
among primitive peoples, 314; affirmative 
quality of, 315 ; leader an interpreter of his 
group, 316 ; lower types of, 316 ; teacher as 
leader, 320 ; in the old fashioned school, 378. 

Learning, social aspects of, 357. 

Lectures for farmers, 46; evening lecture 
system, 98 f. 

McDonogh School, 250 f. 

Manual training, supposed values of, 157; 
vs. industrial training, 158. 

Mathematics, social meaning of, 375. 

Medical attention to delinquents, 231. 

Memory, influence of group upon, 360. 

Mental activity conditioned by presence of 
others, 358; experiments by Mayer, 358; 
Meumann, 359 f. ; Triplett, 359. 

Mental development socially conditioned, 
326 f. ; recognition of, by Froebel, 344; 
in race, 347. 

Military government, defects of, 293. 

Moral unity, a social ideal, 243. 

Moral training, social basis of, 399 f . ; among 
primitive peoples, 408; defect of formal 
moral training, 409 ; continuous character 
of, 410 ; neglected opportunities for, 410 f. ; 
teacher's attitude often unfavorable, 413; 
moral value of work and responsibility, 
413 f. ; individualistic methods, 416; 
question of sufficient motives, 417; per- 
sonal touch with older persons, 419. 

Morning assembly, social value of, 269 ; work 
of, 283. 

Occupations, social value of, in education, 
210 f. 

Parents' associations in high school, work of, 

281. 
Parent teacher associations, 30 f . 
Personality, social conditions of, 336 f. ; 

stages in the development of, 336 f . ; sex 

differences in the development of, 340. 
Pittsburgh, playgrounds of, 115 f. 
Playgrounds, 109 ; ideals of, 109 ; need for, 

iiof.; play organizer, 112, 119; directed 



play, 112, 120; expenditures, 113; Massa- 
chusetts playground act of 1908, 114; 
development of, in Pittsburgh, 115 f. ; 
ignorance of how to play, 118; play and 
child labor, 121; play festival, 121; 
social values of playground extension, 
124 f. 

Primary groups, 238 f. 

Primary ideals, 241 f. 

Problems, social origin of, 347, 350. 

Pupil cooperation in school government, 291 ; 
organization of, 295 ; in high school, 297 ; 
extent of in United States, 298; civic 
training through, 299 f. ; objections to, 
answered, 301 f . ; capacity of children for, 
304- 

Reasoning, social basis of, 332, 334, 354. 

Rochester social centers, 75 f. 

Rural school problem, 25 f ., 28 f . ; Hcsperia 

movement, 29; adapting rural school to 

needs of country, 39 f. 

School a primary group, 264; a society, 

276. 
Self, sense of, a social product, 335. 
Self-organized group work, 385 f. ; moral and 

social value of, 392. 
Social centers, 65 f . ; rural schools as, 39, 41 

four developments leading to, 68 f. 

function of, 73; in Rochester, 75 f. 

cost of, 91 ; need for, 91 ; differing types 

of, 92 ; reasons for use of school property, 

94. 
Social character of the adolescent, 275. 
Social criterion needful in course of study, 

371. 
Social impulses lacking in the traditional 

school regime, 365. 
Social nature of class instruction, 393 f. 
Social organizations among children, 242 f. ; 

aspects of moral training, 399 f. ; contrast 

in early mental development, 328. 
Social progress, 3, 206 f. ; nature of, 217; 

means of, 218 ; school as an instrument in ; 

adaptation theory of progress criticized, 

223; dependence of, upon impulse and 

initiative, 226. 
Social reform and education, 230. 
Social secretary in high school, 267. 
Social self-feeUng, 343. 
Social value of school festival, 269. 
Society, general nature of, 236 ; an organism, 

237; an organization, 238; the " primary 

group " the unit of, 238. 



INDEX 



425 



Sororities in high school, 272. 
Subordinate organizations in the school 
society, 270. 

Thinking socially conditioned, 331. 
Truth and good faith in " primary groups," 
244. 

University high school, Chicago, social or- 
ganization of, 278. 



Vocational direction, 177 f. ; development 
in New York, 189 f. 

Vocational counselor, 183, 203. 

Vocational education, public responsibility 
for, 14s ; not narrowing, 145 ; moral value 
of, 146 f., 148, 154; vs. manual training, 
158; typical state movements, 161; na- 
tional appropriations for, 162; social 
significance of, 165 f., 210; moral and 
intellectual values, 168 f., older than 
liberal education, 170. 



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The Development of Religion 

A Study in Anthropology and Social Psychology 



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